


The Gang That Rocks

by Kuroki_Orya



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroki_Orya/pseuds/Kuroki_Orya
Summary: [Modern AU][Illustrated] "Shinsengumi" is a Dark Scene musical band taking its first steps towards success. On producer's demand they set a search for a female member. Souji opposes the idea but gradually gives in.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings to everyone! Welcome! Here's some general information about the story to save your time.
> 
> Setting. The story takes place in some sort of Third World country. A large city where our characters live is a center of a vast province (often referred as a prairie). Despite being distant from the big world the city is full of contrasts. The slums adjoin prosperous districts, business fights bureaucracy, underground youth confronts religious radicals. 
> 
> The band. So in this universe the well known characters have chosen to boost their passion and energy into music. In the Dark Scene band "Shinsengumi" we have Harada-san on vocals, Nagakura-san on drums, Heisuke on bass, Saitou-san on guitars and Okita-san on keyboards. Hijikata-san is the band's manager. Of course, you'll also meet other familiar faces in new roles. 
> 
> The plot. The chapters 1-7 form an opening arc. In chapter 8 the main plot starts off. The gang happens to be an unwilling participant of a social conflict. The personal stories intertwine with the main plotline. 
> 
> The heroine. In the original game the love story between Souji and Chizuru is very convincing and well-written, but the author of this text takes a step aside from it. The heroine though sharing the same name with Chizuru has a different personality. I tried to think of a person Souji could like if it was not about otome game. we'll see if I succeed in it.
> 
> Illustrations. Illustrations lighten and brighten the stories. I occasionally draw pictures for "The gang that rocks". Recently I've established a Tumblr account for posting them. The nickname is the same (kurokiorya). Feel free to take a look!
> 
> Text quality: Impracticaldemon helps me with beta reading. I'm endlessly grateful to her for this selfless work.

"But, damn it, guys, are you  _ sure _ we really need a female member: won't she just be a piece of furniture?" Heisuke protested again with an annoyed expression. The whole pack had been arguing about that particular issue for the last few weeks.

"Are you implying that a girl's presence will disturb our precious fraternity, hmm?" Souji asked with his usual cold smile.

"He's afraid the girl will fall for anyone but him," Shinpachi put in.

The group occupied a tiny living room of Sanosuke's apartment. In fact, he rented it together with Shinpachi and Heisuke ("When will they finally get tired of each other?" was Souji's regular comment on it), but everyone thought of Sanosuke as the real responsible abode owner. The room was densely stuffed with furniture, bottles and pizza boxes. Heisuke's bass stand crowned the mess like an awkward antenna. It was Heisuke's turn to perform chores that week, but he usually saved such tasks until the last possible minute.

"Hey, guys, stop teasing Heisuke. And Souji really has a point because we were always a bunch of bachelors in public. It will be quite fun if we got stuck with a girl," As usual, Sanosuke was the voice of reason. "She would annoy our fans". 

Hajime sighed in frustration and returned to his book. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Shinpachi opened the door and Hijikata-san rushed into the room, greeting them loudly and cutting into their banter. He looked very agitated.  _ I have a bad feeling about this _ , thought Souji. 

"Okay, everyone, all deadlines have passed, time to decide this case. We discussed the issue with Serizawa-san and he strongly _ recommends _ you to lend an ear to our reasoning. That includes you as well." He pointed an accusing finger at Souji, who had looked into the window with a meaningful expression. Souji snorted and returned an attentive stare to Hijikata-san.

"Serizawa-san believes that we've formed our core fan base and it’s time to move further," Hijikata-san continued, ignoring Souji's intense stare. "So although it's not the common practice to involve a girl member with a male band, we'll try an experiment. We want to have a girl as a cute element, a bait for any other girl who can replace her image with herself. Thus we shouldn't make her too outstanding. And she will also entertain our male fans." He carefully listed their superior's reasons. 

"Disgusting," Souji mumbled in a low voice. Hajime nodded. Nothing good could ever come from Serizawa. Except money, of course.

"Ugh, I surrender. If you think  _ I _ adore this whole fucking idea, you are getting me wrong." Hijikata-san sighed, dropping his guard. "It is a strict recommendation of our  _ producer. _ Do you miss rough work that much?! You sure are quick to forget how we lived four years ago trying to get to the stage. Far better musicians have to quit the damn business due to the lack of money! Be reasonable! At least we can find a capable fiddler and enliven the sound. Do you not like Emily Autumn? We can develop someone like her."  He slumped heavily onto the couch as if he had suddenly ran out of fuel. His face betrayed a long lack of sleep. 

"I'll make you some tea," mumbled Heisuke standing up.

"No need, thank you. I'm sorta in a hurry." Hijikata-san smiled sourly at him. 

Shinpachi spoke up at that point. "E-Emily Autumn sure is hot. I'm starting to like the idea." This instantly broke the ice. 

"Oh, if even Shinpachi-san approves the idea, then I suppose our answer is obvious," Souji said in a sarcastic tone. He got tired of roundabout discussions. "But, jokes aside, it's been a while since we've been writing new material with Hajime-kun and we thought about including violin. And our asshole-of-a-producer won't give up on his idea, that's for sure".  _ He practically leaves us no choice.  _ He didn't voice that last sentence though. 

"Our possible references are Emily Autumn," Hajime nodded to Shinpachi, "Hannah Fury or Wakeshima Kanon."

"Okay! That's a start. What do you all think, besides Souji and Hajime-kun?" Hijikata-san glared at the rhythm-and-vocal section a.k.a Shinpachi, Heisuke and Sanosuke. 

"I vote for cute gothic “Emily” with the violin," said Shinpachi. "What harm could she do anyway?"

Sanosuke nodded. "Plus we don't have to follow all the  _ recommendations _ and expose the poor thing like a transparent figure for fungirls. She'll be a proper member of the band."

"I agree with Sano," said Heisuke. "We are not beasts, after all."

Souji uttered a snorting laugh.   

"Alright, it's settled then," Hijikata stated quickly, preventing further discussion. "No more doubt and hesitation. We need to think of the necessary girl type, spread the information and organize the auditions..." He swiftly started to create a plan. He got up with a contented smile. "I could use your assistance with the audition arrangement. Sorry, need to go now. I'll call you all tomorrow." He nodded and left.

"I didn't expect this to settle so suddenly but it seems we are in the game now," commented Sano, a little wide-eyed. Shinpachi nodded in agreement. 

"I hope we'll benefit from it." Souji sighed. "He's forced us to agree. But we must do it our own way. Serizawa dreams about us making a mistake. Well, it's already late, I should leave too. Tired of this shit for today. Are you going, Hajime-kun?"

Hajime stood up pushing his book into the backpack. The boys exchanged goodbyes with everyone and left.

...

The rhythm-and-vocal section stayed up late that night thinking of what the new member would be like, fooling around and eating their late meal. Despite Souji's doubt, they rarely got tired of each other. They were still in that stage when friends’ company is preferable to loneliness or family.

Quite some distance away, Souji and Hajime parted and moved towards their houses. Souji rented a small flat on the northern edge of the Great Slums District. He could afford more comfortable housing but he liked the poetry of decay surrounding him in the slums. They were his source of energy. Plus it was not too far from his stepfather's house. Hajime lived in Campus. He'd graduated recently but still used an opportunity to live in Campus in the postgraduate area. Hajime valued Campus for its affordability and calmness. Young scientists paid no attention to the guitarist of a band slowly gaining popularity in the underground. 

...

In one of the dilapidated houses of the Harbour District, a black-haired girl was surfing through the web in order to find a job. Everyone had already left the room that was their chamber orchestra's rehearsal space. She had announced her departure a while ago but still used the opportunity to practise there. Or maybe she wanted to spend less time at home… Her main specialization was violin and she had no intention to continue it with a classical music team. The decision to change course had been evolving for a long time and finally she had started to look for a new job. She tried not to think about her parents’ reaction to her sudden rebellion.

Possessing a strong classical base, she had no illusions about the level of the classical scene of their city and didn't want to move to the Capital in order to compete with tons of skilled violinists. The dream solution would be a Dark Scene band in need of a fiddler. There was almost a zero chance of finding one, though.   


	2. The audition

Okita Souji preferred the world of sounds to any other world. He also cherished his dear rotting slums, his car, his friends and his stepfather, but the world of sounds was superior to all. That morning (although all office clerks had already had their lunch, it was still morning for Souji) he prepared coffee and totally forgot about it, trying to pick up a melody on his synth. He was interrupted after an hour of playing music by Hajime, who dropped by to get to the rehearsal studio together.

"Hey, Hajime-kun, come in." He greeted his friend. "I sorta got carried away."

"Trying to compose the "Bridge" thing again?" Hajime entered his room with a small knowing smile. 

"Yep, but my titanic efforts are fruitless.” Souji hurried to the kitchen to prepare tea. “I keep thinking that we are repeating ourselves."

"Same here. Anyway, we are going to be distracted today." Hajime looked irritated by the prospect of time wasting. He didn't display his feelings much, but he felt rather relaxed around Souji. Their friendship, "a union of ridiculously different people" due to Shinpachi's  _ witty _ remark, was longtime and strong.

"Well, let's just think of it as a way to develop our concept. Today we may meet the one to help with this damn idea. And maybe a pretty one too." Souji made a wry smile.

"Spare me this whole girl business, please," Hajime frowned. He was still upset over his previous unfortunate affair. "And hurry up, if you don't want Sano and Shinpachi to take advantage of your _ lady. _ "

Souji joked back but hurried up to pick his clothes.   

...

"Is this the place Hijikata-san claimed to be our new luxurious rehearsal base?" Souji groaned. "Why did I actually take a car today? We could use a damn boat here. Hajime-kun, come out, we'll walk."

Yesterday's rain had made the road impassable. The western edge of the Great Slums was the worst part of the legendary district. And, hell knows why, Hijikata had rented an old two-storey mansion here. 

"An ancient place," Hajime remarked, inspecting the surroundings. 

They noticed a group of fangirls (or maybe applicants) in front of the building and went to the back door according to their manager's instructions from the band's chat. The guts of the ancient building were tainted by time and Souji approved it immediately. They found the band members in a large room on the first floor. The room had obviously been a living room once, but Hijikata had redesigned it conveniently for the audition needs. 

“Hey, guys, you are late!” Shinpachi greeted them loudly. 

“Composers’ duties,” muttered Hajime, proceeding to a snug armchair in the corner. 

"We took our time looking for a boat to get over this mess." Souji pointed to the window. "Pray tell, why did Hijikata-san settle our rehearsal base in a place like this?"

"Tell me  _ you _ don't like it," smiled Hijikata. "Okay guys, let's get ready…"

...

The black-haired girl entered the mansion. The traces of urgent renovation could be seen here and there, but the atmosphere seemed to be intense. She heard other participants’ excited gossip…

"Try to impress Okita-san, he's the true evil mastermind of the band..."

"To hell with Okita-san, Harada-san is the vocalist and his voice should matter the most..."

"I can't believe that I'll see them all so close..."

"I heard rumors that Okita-san and Saitou-san are against the whole idea..."

"But Saitou-san looks so quiet and broody, I can’t imagine him acting rude..."

“Have you seen the manager? He’s so damn scary…”

Most of the voices around her agreed that Okita-san should be feared the most, but the girl didn't care much. In fact, she neither considered this audition to be her last opportunity, nor was she a fan of the band. Her motivation was not at its height. Moreover, she didn't know who that devilish Okita-san was. The girl had listened to the band's material thoroughly and taken a glance of their photo, but she hadn't bothered herself with names and personal information.  _ I'm so reckless. Could have checked their names at least. _ The best way was to consider the awkward situation to be nothing more than a new adventure that should be enjoyed. She surely looked out of place here, surrounded by the girls dressed like "an underground princess", "a dead prostitute" and "a conservatoire lady". Some outfits were pretty cool though. The girl stood hesitating for quite a time, but there was no turning back. Her name was finally announced and she entered the audition room.

For a moment she stopped in confusion but collected herself and moved further, greeting a bunch of men in a quiet voice. There they were - the heroes of girls’ imagination. Somehow it was rather hard to imagine them working together. 

In the center of the room there was a long table with several chairs. She was met by a black-haired confident man in a suit who introduced everyone in a rapid manner. He was Hijikata-san, the band’s manager and a lyrics author, a strange mix of occupations that however suited him well. He looked assertive and energetic, yet rather observant and sharp. 

The table was occupied by the "rhythm-and-vocal section". Harada-san, a vocalist, was sitting in its center with a warm casual smile over his face. He had spiky, auburn shoulder-length hair, straight posture and a gentle and cheerful air about him. He wore smart casual clothes. On his left, a boisterous young man was sitting. Well-built and muscled, he had messy brown hair covered with a green bandana. He wore comfortable sporty clothes. "Our famous drummer, Nagakura-san," said Hijikata-san. Nagakura-san winked to her.

On Harada's right there was another cheerful young man, obviously the youngest of the band. He had a small frame and long brown hair. That was Toudou-san, a bassist. He looked like a shaggy, hectic chick, very social and noisy. 

The other two band members kept their distance. A slender young man with chest-length indigo hair was sitting in an old armchair by the window. He wore a black shirt and jeans. Saitou-san was a guitarist, although he looked rather impassive and detached for a lead guitar. The nearest window sill was occupied by a tall lad with reddish-brown hair pulled into a topknot. He had a sort of devilish yet irritated vibe around him and she knew he was that infamous Okita-san even before the introduction. He turned out to be a keyboardist. He wore ripped jeans and a black T-shirt. She caught his almost hostile look and frowned slightly. Despite being a composer and a meaningful member of the band he seemed to be willingly isolated from the rest.  _ Having fun being an outcast, huh?  _ She felt a strong prejudice against such behavior. 

Quickly finished with the formal part they started the audition itself. The girl attached her electric violin to the amplifier, took a deep breath and… Her performance consisted of an instrumental cover of  _ Emilie Autumn's _ song and some vibrant gypsy violin pieces. She purposely avoided classical music. She had a significant classic repertoire under her belt, but given the circumstances, that just felt odd. Her CV contained information about her education - that must be enough. 

One could feel a natural inspiration coming from the music. She didn't need to make it especially good or to add anything - the music was already vivid itself. The girl stopped with satisfaction. While the last reverberations of sound still echoed through her insides she caught an attentive stare from the infamous evil mastermind or whatever the crowd had called him. He even left his window sill and approached the table.  _ He has green eyes.  _

...

Hijikata-san was shining with enthusiasm. Things were finally getting somewhere, which meant fewer troubles from his headache department. 

"The next applicant is... Yukimura Chizuru," he declared into a crowded hall. The band's glances focused on the entrance. They had already been tired, but still there was no sign of a  _ proper _ person. Souji was eager to confirm defeat.

A delicate looking girl stepped into the room. She had long, yet not very thick black hair and a petite frame. Her tight-fitting, mid-ankle, asphalt grey dress looked a bit out of line. The face was focused and serious. She greeted them in a quiet voice. The boys perked up a little. 

"Not overflowing with confidence, are we?" Souji mumbled to himself.

However, her performance impressed him more than anyone else's. The choice of pieces was close to what they needed and he could see her high skill and passion. She didn't play any refined classical stuff. But their music had nothing to do with lightness and gracefulness anyway... 

"Thank you for an excellent performance. One more question: are you possibly capable of singing too? Could you please sing something short?" Hijikata-san stabbed her in the back with a sudden question.  _ What is the douche thinking about?  _ The girl looked pretty shocked but pulled herself together and came up with a short acapella piece. Her voice was a little indistinct but rather pleasant. She sang Storm's  _ "Lokk" _ . Surely, it was no simple job to knock her down. 

"May it be that you can also dance?" Souji couldn't avoid adding fuel to the fire. It was rather rude, but he wanted to test the boundaries. 

"I am no dancer, Okita-san." The girl looked into his eyes with irritation. He noticed something odd about her glare and stopped in surprise while Hijikata-san continued with apologies and thanks and his usual request to wait for a call. 

When she left, Souji turned to the band: "Her eyes have different colors, did you notice? Her left eye is grey, while the right one is brown. She also put on makeup in a special way to highlight it. I think I'll vote for the girl. She's not boring after all."

"And she still may be a dancer, right, Souji? What's wrong with you assaulting her like that?"  _ Sano is acting like Prince-sama again.  _

"Since Souji’s made up his mind, we can finish the damn circus already!" Heisuke stretched his hands with a tired expression. 

"Cut this shit off!" snarled Hijikata-san. "We have to listen to all the applicants! Although I liked that girl too. She sorta suits us".

…

_ To sing. To dance. Or do they look for a girl to cook for them and massage their shoulders?  _ The girl chuckled and turned on her music. The headphones cut all outside sounds away. The evening city twinkled in the bus window with random lights.  _ I keep a world of sounds close so I won't feel all alone.  _


	3. Welcome aboard

"Eh... Hey there, Yukimura-san! It's Toudou Heisuke of “Shinsengumi _ ”.  _ If you are still willing to participate…" 

"Idiot." She heard a background whisper. "Giving her the wrong impression."

"Then do it yourself, dude!"

"Good morning, Yukimura-san, Saitou Hajime speaking. We are glad to welcome you as an official member of our band. We will expect you at the rehearsal base at 7 p.m. Welcome aboard." He hung up.

Chizuru chortled. The bastards didn't even ask if she was willing to participate. Okita-san must be  _ especially _ sure she’d be on cloud nine to join. Several days had passed, but she still felt a bit affected by their glances and dancing proposals. And their manager didn't even bother to call himself!

…

Chizuru spent the entire day digging up the information about the band. Their most renowned songs combined rock’n’roll drive with emotional melody and profound lyrics. Some tracks were densely stuffed with grim synth and created a high-tension atmosphere. That reminded her of the complicated guys near the window, undoubtedly responsible for that sound. Their first studio album was full of young aggressive energy. It had rapid mood swings between desperation and lightness. The record was rather raw in her opinion, but underground youngsters were in seventh heaven. The album was released two years ago. Last year the guys came up with a successful single. That was probably the moment when the band caught their infamous producer's attention. She had no clue what circumstances drew them into that strange covenant. Her own favorite musicians were mostly indie. They organized crowdfunding campaigns, released lots of merchandize, had a dense concert schedule… And left the stage tired of constant lack of money. The _Shinsengumi_ were now free from such hardships. But they had recently taken some strange steps like hiring a female violinist out of blue.

Their live shows were pure madness. The band rocked those small underground clubs and abandoned basements to the core. Saitou-san looked like he was possessed by a demon - a strong contrast to his casual stealthy demeanor. Okita appeared to be a wizard, mesmerizing the crowd. Harada-san was no different. Once he had cut his belly in the heat of the night. The concert had been stopped and Harada-san departed to the hospital covered in blood and smiling. The video had spread, like a virus, in the local web.   

...

"Do you think she’ll come?” Heisuke asked worriedly. “Souji was rather hostile towards her after all."

"If you two had asked her properly, we wouldn't be in the dark about it," noted Shinpachi. Hajime still looked slightly flushed after the phone call. 

"Then you'll be the one to call next time!" Heisuke barked. 

"Oh man, I bet she’ll come. And since I am the Big Bad Wolf of the pack, you can all play princes to win over her heart," Souji giggled. He had a sudden impulse to stir things up. "Shinpachi-san will make a perfect prince, not mentioning Heisuke. Flawless gentlemen and shit." Shinpachi showed him the middle finger and returned to his  _ tea,  _ too exhausted to talk back. 

"Do you think Hijikata-san will sleep it off before she comes?" Sano tried to return to the most urgent matter.  

"Nope. Poor thing never knows where to stop with alcohol. Even Shinpachi-san hasn't recovered after that raid yet," said Souji. 

"We gonna dance until we drop," Shinpachi murmured. 

At that moment they heard a timid but very distinct knock over a wooden door frame. A black-haired girl was standing in the doorway obviously confused. She carried her violin case like a shield in front of her. 

…

The small kitchen was stuffed with people. Chizuru seemed to be interrupting a late lunch even though it was already 7 p.m.  _ A bunch of punks,  _ she thought, studying their faces _.  _ Nagakura was sitting in the corner, cradling his face in his hands. A mug of tea was steaming in front of him. Saitou-san, Toudou and Harada-san were eating. They looked like they had recently woken up. Okita was standing near the window. Puffy eyes and dark circles revealed that he'd had a busy night. His cheekbone was slightly bruised. Chizuru was far from overestimating people who had gained a bit of publicity. But seeing these popular underground guys sitting so casually in the kitchen was unusual. 

...

Okita winked to Harada-san and said. "Start over, Prince-sama!" He finished the sentence in a loud whisper.

"Greetings, Yukimura-san. Please, take a seat and pay no attention to Souji." Harada-san’s words brought a wry smile over Okita's face. "Tea?" She answered positively. "You see, Hijikata-san is absent today. He... eh..." Harada-san paused with the kettle in his hand unsure how to explain the case. 

"Yesterday our precious poet left exploring the bars in the Lower Slums. Totally painted the town red." Okita helped out. 

"He must have scared the hell out of local rednecks!" Toudou giggled. 

"He apparently got stuck with a bunch of workmen. They had a huge disagreement some whatever shit. Hijikata-san’s a stubborn dude," Nagakura added. 

_ They sure don't bother to filter their language in front of me,  _ thought Chizuru _.  _

"Souji and Shinpat-san had to get him back and to settle things with a bunch of enraged workmen," Toudou continued enthusiastically. Saitou-san was keeping silent, but he pursed his lips a bit.   

They poured all this chaotic information out on her. Chizuru was surprised by how they turned into a bunch of kids in no time. 

“I didn't expect Okita-san to be such a warrior,” she noted.  

"Souji is a tremendous fighter! He always gets into brawls due to his kind and all-forgiving personality." The explanation followed immediately.  

"I assume she's had enough of your bullshit for now." Okita grinned, cutting into their banter. "So you’ve already got a glimpse of what we are like. Pretty ridiculous, I guess. Not many bands these days tend to embrace a cliché rock’n’roll lifestyle like we do. Some people can't handle it, especially on tour, where you really test your limits. You can break down. But touring, exposing yourself and playing music is the most natural way to feel alive for us. It's up to you if you want to stay or not, but we really are hard workers…"

"And hard revelers," added Toudou.

"And, undoubtedly, hard revelers," Okita continued with a smirk, rubbing a fresh bruise on his cheek. "Let's give you several hours to make up your mind." He fixed her with his eyes waiting for reaction and feeling himself like a damn preacher.  _ What am I trying to persuade a girl into?  _ A sudden hesitation came up.  _ To claim this everyday unstoppable freak show to be a dreamland... That's too much. She still can refuse and play her sweet violin in some sweet gothic lolita band. Would be the wisest decision.  _

Her thoughts were a mess as well.  _ I've tried having a normal job and always ended up hating myself for wasting time. A wealthy family and a conventional background - I was a good-for-nothing, unable to do anything on my own behalf. Isn't this a way to expand my boundaries? A door of opportunity? They say they feel alive, that’s the most tempting promise.  _

"No need to postpone, it's decided. I'm in." Chizuru said quickly, preventing further reflection. 

"Yay! We need to celebrate tonight!" Toudou raised his hands. 

"We have a rehearsal tonight, blockhead." Nagakura cut him off. 

"You are a strange girl, you know?" Okita said quietly. She smiled in response. She felt too embarrassed to come up with a witty answer.   

“Congratulations,” uttered Saitou-san. “I hope you won’t regret it.” 

“You must be kidding, Hajime-kun! Don’t give the game away,” Okita chortled. 

"What the fuck is this noise about?" Hijikata-san entered the room, looking rather rumpled and sick. He noticed the hero of the party. "Oh, pardon me, Yukimura-san, seems that I've skipped my duties." He reached out for the kettle. 

"Hijikata-san has missed everything! We have a new member here."

"Okay, time to go to the basement! Hijikata-san, you're late for supper."

…

There was a rehearsal room in the basement. Not very spacious though, it was large enough to accommodate six musicians with their equipment. A creepy woolen rug hung on the long wall. 

"Helps to deaden the reverberation," Nagakura explained.

"Nah, you just like pattern," noted Toudou. 

Harada-san took control of the rehearsal, starting with brief explanation. 

"It's damn obvious, but we have several working modes. The first is about building a setlist, when we bring up the new material. The second is refining the setlist and correcting mistakes. The third one is songwriting. We often do it separately, then try to nurse it together. Hajime-kun is in charge of the log. He takes notes on where we are with each song. Helps a lot, you know. Hijikata-san often participates in the rehearsals…"

"Cause he has nothing else to do," muttered Okita.

"...Especially when we polish the songs based on his lyrics, not mine," Harada-san gave a sour smile to Okita. "He also records a video. Did I forget anything?" He turned to the pack. Saitou-san shook his head. 

"I will provide you with chords, tabs, lyrics and clips. And our typical contract as well; you haven't signed it yet," Hijikata-san cut into. "You'll also have to meet with Hajime-kun and Souji on the issue of involving the violin." 

"Can't wait," Okita sneered. 

"For this first time you can just watch the mess with me." Hijikata-san led her to the chairs in the corner of the room. 

"All right! To the warm up!" 


	4. Drawing closer

The pack was heading towards the Bar Mile, a famous street in the Central Slums, the most civilized part of the district, stuffed with entertainment establishments of all kinds. Chizuru took the passenger seat in Okita's car. Saitou-san joined them while the rest of the pack occupied Harada-san's Mazda. 

Despite Okita being all teasing and thorny, Chizuru had the impression that she could understand his worldview easily and that they had much in common. If Okita had had an idea of her thoughts, he would have died laughing. He never tolerated those who took him lightly.

For the welcoming party the pack had chosen an old-school establishment with private rooms and a modest signboard. Several old men were having their late meals under the canopy of artificial plants. 

"Hijikata-san has booked the  _ quietest  _ place of the quarter," mumbled Toudou giving a disappointed look to the place. “I wanna puke.”  

"For the sake of everyone's safety." Harada-san winked to the receptionist who was obviously shocked by a bunch of weirdos with a girl proceeding to the private rooms. 

"First day in the Slums, huh? The chick's all pale." Toudou brightened up a little. 

"Be generous, behave yourself,” Nagakura patted his shoulder. 

…

Their private room was rather tight with a number of large pillows gathered around a low table. Chizuru praised herself for wearing jeans that day. The pack ordered drinks and some appetizers. The waiter couldn't hide a disapproving glance towards a girl stuck between a scary guy with reddish-brown hair and a loud  _ thug _ with a bandana on his head. When the waiter had left, they all burst into laughter.

"Poor Yukimura-san, you'll get these looks every time from now on!" said Toudou.

"Do we really look like a bunch of womanizers?" Shinpachi cried.

"You don't resemble a priest, pal, relax," Harada-san comforted him.

The idea of being an outcast or prejudiced because of the pack’s company hadn’t crossed Chizuru’s mind before. The guys wouldn't look dangerous to anyone who bothered to take a closer observation. Moreover, they appeared pretty childish and easy-going, and they did their best to accept her into the band. Chizuru couldn't afford to rely on people's sanity anymore.  _ "Do. Not. Belong." _ was the title of the band’s first longplay and she had to blend in.  _ I wanted to start over, so here it is.  _

"I guess you need some informal information about us,” Toudou started. “You know nothing except our general occupations and the fact that Souji is an asshole. Aww! That hurts!" 

"Stop harming my reputation, dude." Okita spared a casual grin to Toudou who grabbed his chest. He was not half as hostile as Toudou portrayed him, but it seemed to be a kind of regular inner joke of the pack. 

They started their usual playful chatter giving Chizuru the details of their relationships and common life. She had a chance to check her first impressions and some of them were obviously false. The rumors told that the band was forced to take a new member on their producer’s demand and Chizuru felt a bit uncomfortable infiltrating their team. However, they all tried to be nice. Even Okita despite his teasing was completely proficient in everything connected with actual work. 

"Guys, could you tell me more about the band's history? How did you all meet?" Chizuru asked. She wanted to postpone the inevitable report about herself.  

"Yep, I guess we owe you a thorough description of the mess you got into. That's what the welcoming party is for." Harada-san smiled to her. 

"You shouldn't trust some random unknown punks, especially when they look like us!" giggled Nagakura.  

"Especially when every frigging waiter looks at us with that frigging expression!" Toudou added.

At that moment the waiter entered the room bringing their order. He gave them all a mundane smile and retreated.  _ He's not that bad after all.  _

"Okay, we should start it with Souji's biography since he's sorta the first member." Harada-san said musingly taking his drink. 

"You don't have to tell her my full biography, pal. It's embarrassing. Start from the moment we first met." He didn't look all that embarrassed though. Somehow Okita happened to sit by Chizuru’s left side and she could feel the touch of his knee.  _ Why is the damn room so small?  _ His presence made her nervous, especially since she still felt a bit tense in the new company.  

"Don't worry, I won't give away your secrets." Harada-san smiled. "When Souji was fifteen, he ran a dark-electro duet with that creepy guy… remind me… Sannan Keisuke. He's rather well-known in the local underground. Souji made beats and electronic arrangements for him. He was a sort of gothic party prodigy." 

"My, my, get straight to business," Okita grinned.

"Sure. Once there was some hell-of-a-party in Token club, where I’d first met him in person. We came with Shinpachi to rave up, but actually Souji was the one to have some real fun. He had a fight with a security guy and was banned from the club for several months. 

"Souji was nuts. A crazy weedy teen. Pretty scary though." said Nagakura. Chizuru could add that the latter thing hadn’t changed much. 

Okita was sitting with a blank face, stirring his drink with a wooden skewer. He and Harada-san had turned down alcohol since they were driving. Hijikata-san had been sober since their previous encounter. To Chizuru’s surprise Saitou-san was absorbing significant amounts of alcohol, although it didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest. 

"By the way, I have some photos with me!" Hijikata-san announced taking out his tablet. A rare smile was plastered over his face.

"Is it some kind of revenge or what?!" moaned Okita.

"I barely recognize you here. Although the smirk is the same," said Chizuru as her eyes went wide. Teen Okita was very skinny, all packed up in black and wearing shoulder-blade-length hair. He had the same rowdy face expression. 

"Oh, really?" he murmured. 

"And this must be your partner…" She pointed at the dark-haired guy with melancholic face standing next to teen Okita. 

"Yup, it's Sannan-san. But let's continue," Harada-san said. "We found Souji on the street and quickly proceeded to the nearby bar. It was a strange feeling… As we talked it became more obvious. We seemed to be dealing from the same pack of cards. That morning we established our band." 

"You forgot that I’d found your verses too intimate back then and I still consider the name too pretentious.  _ The new squad _ *, really?" Okita smiled.

"Of course, he teased us to death all the time. But we know he loves us. Deep inside. Got used to it," said Nagakura refilling his plate with food.

"I need to think of something new to keep you in a good shape then."

"But what about Sannan-san? How did he accept the new band? And what about Harada-san and Nagakura-san? Did you run your own band back then too?" Chizuru asked.

"They all worked together for some time, but Sannan-san went further. He is a sound designer now,” Saitou-san cut into. “He also runs a pretty reputable stand-alone about electronic music and sound." 

"As for Sano and Shinpachi… There were times when every lady strolling up and down the damn Bar mile knew Sano's singing." Hijikata-san smiled. "Sano was performing some wild romance songs with Shinpachi on bongo drums and percussion."

They all chuckled picturing that scene.   

"When did we meet Hijikata-san? He was the next one to join." Harada-san frowned trying to remember. 

"Yup. Sano and Hijikata-san were taking part in some sort of flyting, a poetry slam. We came to support Sano and suddenly got the second lyricist for our band." Shinpachi's face was clouded with memories. 

"Hijikata-san was very expressive with his beloved  _ we all gonna die  _ topics. Bar none, we immediately fell in love with him." Souji looked a bit regretful. 

Hijikata-san sighed. "I love you too. You are my  _ favorite _ ward". 

They broke down with laughter. Chizuru felt unusually at ease. She couldn't totally blame alcohol for it. She basked in the warmth of their company. They were all smiling trying to get the pieces of story together for her. How could so many damn people misjudge them that much?

"Souji's stepfather runs a  _ kendo _ school in the Workmen district, close to the Slums. We were allowed to occupy a room there between 8 and 10 p.m. The  _ kendo _ school became our first rehearsal base. Brings back memories, huh?" Harada-san  continued. Chizuru noted the word  _ stepfather _ . "The whole thing was snowballing rapidly. We had lots of ideas and melodic drafts, but we lacked guitar and bass. Heisuke was Souji's schoolmate..."

"I'm two years younger than him," said Heisuke. "We hadn’t crossed paths much at school. But he’s found me through our common buddies."

_ So he attended school at least,  _ thought Chizuru. 

"Saitou-san was the last to join, I assume?" She asked. 

"I got acquainted with Souji through the music-related forum on the net. I lived in my native city in northern Yezo. And Souji came there while traveling…" Saitou-san raised his voice. 

_ He traveled across the prairie in his teens, while I was studying like a dummy.  _ She wasn't the one to brag about an interesting bio. 

"Then I moved here to enter the college and ended up in the band. I would say I was persuaded fervently," he continued with a small smile. 

"Given his incredible skills, Hajime had no future there in Yezo," said Hijikata-san.

"Yukimura-san, did you see our live performance? He's such a beast, huh?" Shinpachi gave her a wide smile.

"I’ve watched the videos. Saitou-san is amazing. By the way, you can call me by my first name, since we are going to work closely." 

"Chizuru-chan, then," stated Harada-san. 

Souji narrowed his eyes at her.  _ What does his weird body language mean?  _ Nagakura and Toudou immediately asked Chizuru to call them by their first names as well. 

"So we started to work on our first songs," Hijikata-san continued. "I was writing so-called  _ social  _ lyrics while Sano was writing  _ sensual _ ones. That's what we call them although it's an obvious simplification."

"We’re all waiting for that moment when Sano becomes a bit more political and writes some bomb protest song." They all burst into laughter again. That seemed to be another regular inner joke. 

"Gentlemen, we have the only unknown member left here," Okita said looking at her with a persistent smile. 

Chizuru felt a panic rising.  _ They'll learn that I had nothing to do with police, hemp or parties. Never crossed the prairie. Nothing interesting, just school-college-orchestra.  _

"While studying I joined the Chamber orchestra,” she started. “I did it because of the Conductor's personality… He was an innovator, always pushing us to expand the boundaries. We did both unknown pieces and his interpretations of well-known classics. I was lucky to be a part of it. And our city was lucky to have him for those several years. When he went abroad, I changed groups several times, but I've lost the thirst for classical music and a view of my path.” That sounded a bit pretentious, but the most sincere words are often ridiculous. “Then I found your ad on the web. Th-that's it. Nothing so impressive about me I guess." She felt like she was starting to blush. Being the center of everyone's attention wasn't her cup of tea.

"You impressed us enough with the track choice during the audition," Hijikata-san reassured her. 

"Well, I guess, I had some experimental stuff,” muttered Chizuru. “I always felt like a traitor for constantly listening to non-classics and practising some weird things."

The pack chatted like that for several hours. Hijikata-san had stored a collection of old photos in his tablet and the pictures were an immense success. A range of episodes floated in front of her eyes. There was Shinpachi-san demonstrating his new tattoo with a megawatt smile. His long spiky hair was tied into a messy ponytail. There was Saitou-san shot in a musical instrument store. He looked unusually lively discussing something with a cornered salesperson. There were Okita and Hijikata-san pictured with a tall friendly-looking man embracing their shoulders.

"Souji's stepfather, Kondou-san," Shinpachi-san whispered to her ear. Teen Okita was smiling. There were Heisuke-kun, Shinpachi-san and Harada-san leaving some pub and waving hands at the photographer…  

When Saitou-san fell asleep in his corner, they finally decided to postpone nostalgic memories until further parties. 

...

Okita was driving her home. He, Harada-san and Hijikata-san were the only sober members of the pack by the end of the evening. 

"Actually, I never feel completely sober," he commented. It seemed to be his usual joke about it. 

“Does it mean you never drink?” Chizuru asked nonchalantly. 

“I guess I don’t like the feeling of losing control, so no, I rarely drink.” Okita uttered unexpectedly. They fell silent.  

The streets of reputable districts were empty and quiet due to the late hour. They finally stopped near her house. 

"A Marketplace? You sure live in the wealthy neighbourhood." Okita looked at the multistorey buildings surrounding the former market square. 

"Come on, it's not my fault!" She felt more relaxed around him than usual.

"Sure thing," he said wistfully. "Well, see you soon. Don't wake Hajime-kun up, I'll give him your best wishes."

Chizuru said goodbye to Okita and went inside. Her family was still up and waiting for her. She had made no secret of the fact that she had joined an underground band, not a sweet orchestra. But her parents had had no idea about the extent of the band's  _ undergroundness _ . A couple of Youtube videos (especially the infamous one with Harada wounding himself) had shocked them to the core. The image of their girl playing  _ Kansas _ covers with some classy guys in glasses was torn up. 

That night, they had a hard talk about Chizuru’s complicated and expensive education being thrown away for the sake of some thugs. About being alone with five guys with unclear motives and scary faces. About life priorities and wasting precious time. They could have used much less effort to ruin a wonderful evening, since she had been all happy and defenseless. And Chizuru ended up in tears. The tense atmosphere of her home, which she thought she had gotten used to, was driving her mad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * 'The new squad' is the translation of 'Shinsengumi'.  
> ...  
> Greetings to the visitors! Thanks to the person who left me 'kudos'. I hope you like this story. As for me, I'm really happy to write it not only because I do like Hakuouki but also because I expand my horizons and learn a lot about the things I didn't know before.  
> ...  
> One of the most interesting things about writing AU is that you have your characters put into different circumstances in comparison with the original game. And they have no chance to stay _completely_ the same. So you have to change them with maximum caution.


	5. Underground rivers

A classical background can be a huge hindrance to mastering rock violin (industrial violin or whatever). A classical musician is used to relying a lot on sheet music while making non-classical music requires improvisation, alternative scales and special techniques. 

There seems to be a contradiction about the nature of playing music. A classical musician is often considered a mere vessel for music. He has no right to expose his personality or to interpret the material. On the one hand there really are things that an ordinary mind cannot capture and it's better to give in and be lead. On the other hand a mere reproduction takes away the fire of life and leaves a boring empty shell. Some musicians have enough guts to fill the shell with their own content. 

Chizuru was not rebellious enough to think that she knew classical music better than her teachers. And yet the contradiction had never disappeared once she was mature enough to think about her life. She longed for bright emotions, for fast-food-feelings. The girl scolded herself for being so careless, but once started it was impossible to stop. Maybe long years of restraint had pushed her to that edge. And thus Chizuru began to explore the world of alternative fiddling. Finished with her orchestra duties she tried to play by ear, to copy the licks of famous rock fiddlers and study blues scales. 

Chizuru had a lot to tell Saitou-san and Okita about her motivation and strategies when they arranged a meeting. She also did her homework with the band’s two songs. Since no one was going to provide her with notes or to write her parts, she had to do it herself. So she came up with a rhythmic part for one song and a melodic part for another one.  

…

When Chizuru arrived at the base that day she was surprised to find Hijikata-san sitting in the corner of the rehearsal room with the Composer Duet. That place was the so-called "Hijikata nest" due to the personal belongings he tended to leave on the table (piles of paper, notebooks, teacups and so on). 

"I need to know everything about the band,” Hijikata-san told Chizuru, explaining his presence. “Including what you decide for your contribution." 

That was pretty reasonable. Being a good leader, Hijikata-san was responsible for everything from arranging rehearsals to providing a band member with a backup cord. She couldn't imagine herself ruling a bunch of punks but he was energetic enough to do it successfully. 

She started to explain a variety of fiddling strategies to them. She didn't want to duplicate Saitou-san's job of leading melodist so she had to be very flexible. 

"First of all, I can support the rhythm section and it's the most unglamorous fiddler's work." Chizuru gave them a quick demonstration of the chop technique. "We can develop our cross-rhythm parts! I can also play a series of chopping, sawing and shuffling patterns to fit in." Her enthusiasm seemed to infuse them as well. 

"The other way is to step into Saitou-san's field and lead a melody. It could be like playing long notes during Harada-san's singing and coming up with some short bursts of melody in the gaps. But we can also do voice crossing..."  

"If we alter some notes of one melodic line, we can reach that impression of irregularity and instability that you hear in medieval chorales," Saitou-san added. 

"Exactly!"

"And, I assume, the third way is playing solo," he continued with a small smile. 

"Yep, they say that inside every rock violinist there's a frustrated lead guitarist." She grinned her approval. "I have some drafts but we must decide if they really suit your songs."

They talked for several hours, listening to the material and trying to elaborate the strategy. Hijikata-san departed visibly satisfied with their work. 

"At least someone takes this crap seriously," he said before leaving. 

They stopped for lunch and moved to the kitchen. Chizuru was in awe. She felt like the whole paradigm was finally being destroyed in her mind leaving the unusual feeling of freedom. Chizuru told the guys about herself, her years of studying and self-doubting. They were listening to her with tireless attention. 

"It's hard to imagine a conservatoire girl filling the gap between  _ Mahler _ and  _ Sibelius  _ with  _ Psyclon Nine _ ," smiled Okita. His smile was a bit warmer in comparison with their first encounter.   

…

Chizuru needed a quiet place to do her homework. Her home was out of question due to the excessive amount of annoyed faces. The rehearsal base seemed to be the best option but it was no simple task to get there by public transport. Chizuru mentally scolded Hijikata-san for the weird choice of location for the headquarters. The last bus stop marked the edge of the Central Slums and she had to walk about two kilometers more to get to the place. 

The "mansion" was a worn out two-storey building of brown brick. It had some traces of awkward decoration and could be considered as an example of the typical pre-War wealthy housing. The lane consisted of several similar brick houses and a number of wooden barracks and barns. Some old cars were parked here and there. It was early autumn and the bright foliage disguised the disadvantages of architecture.       

Chizuru opened the door with her own key and stumbled into Okita passing through the hall with a steaming mug in his hands. He wore a pair of old baggy jeans stained with violet paint. A pair of thick woolen socks completed his outfit. His eyes widened in surprise and so did hers. 

"Wh-whatcha doing here?" Chizuru finally uttered. 

"Greetings to you too." He was the first one to cope with astonishment. "I  _ live _ here. Starting today. Whatever is the matter?" He eyed her with a sardonic smile. 

"Oh, sorry!” Least of all Chizuru wanted to appear rude. “I expected nobody to be here today. Would you mind letting me occupy the rehearsal room?"

"Come in. Did your parents ban you from practicing at home?" Suddenly Okita became serious. So far, he had been the only one to ask her about her family. 

"Not yet," she forced a smile. "But I feel awkward practising when they are able to hear. But it's okay, I'll deal with them somehow."

“I'm sure you will,” he muttered. “Come in already. I'm busy, so you can stay in the basement until tomorrow’s rehearsal if you wish." 

"Unpacking your belongings?" Chizuru asked trying to find another point to look at to avoid the view of his bare chest. She caught a glimpse of several old scars on his arms, blots of violet paint in several places, and a fresh bruise on his shoulder. Finally she decided to look straight into his eyes and who knew which direction was worse. 

"Nope," he chuckled. "Hijikata-san's provided me with housing unsuitable for a human being so I'm trying to perform some urgent repair. Sorry, I have things to do. See ya!" He turned away and went to the second floor. Chizuru proceeded to the basement. 

…

She needed to make her violin sound grimy. It wasn't her first experiment with sound but she had to practise more on ghost harmonics. Alternative fiddlers use a number of techniques aiming to control the instrument's feedback. Just by lessening the pressure on the bow, Chizuru could produce whistling sounds. A horizontal movement of the bow or playing close to the violin's bridge both enriched the sound with whistling overtones. She needed every method she could master to create an insecure and distressing vibe. 

Chizuru tried to copy different parts of their songs by ear. And then tried to find her way to fit in. They had decided to mix different fiddling strategies, but then she had to make tactical decisions and write her parts. It was absorbing work, so she totally forgot about time, parents and Okita. 

…

Hijikata-san was busy organizing a concert at the R-club on the Bar Mile. The band had decided to introduce the new sound as soon as possible, so Hijikata-san was conducting negotiations. He was running around making endless calls, collecting backup equipment and gathering allies. 

The pack was busy polishing the sound. Hijikata-san had established a dry law for the forthcoming week, but either way everyone had too much work to allow distractions. Though nothing could prevent them from their usual banter and jokes. The members often stayed in the guest room for a night, thus Okita's seclusion was being constantly _ rudely  _ interrupted. 

…

The days became pretty similar. Once finished refining the regular set-list, the pack  usually ordered pizza and started some lazy improvisation while waiting for delivery. That evening’s pizza-talk suddenly turned to their producer. 

"Who's that mysterious Serizawa-san?" asked Chizuru.

"First of all, the man is not involved with any music-related issues except us. He owns several clubs and bars on the Bar Mile and in the Central district." Heisuke-kun explained to her.

"And since he's not a musician, he calls his orders the  _ recommendations _ ," added Okita. As always, he occupied the windowsill and was sitting there with a cup of tea. 

"Don’t you like pizza, Okita-san?" she asked, as he seemed to skip his meals. 

"I don't like food in general," he smiled. "Not hungry, in fact."

"Leave him be, Chizuru-chan," said Heisuke-kun. "He's always like that. Well, about Serizawa-san… I bet his assistant Niimi Nishiki noticed some hype around us and persuaded him that we’re a profitable deal."

"Actually, he can’t influence our music or a general concept. That's our agreement," Harada-san continued. "He’s helped us to rent this house, to buy some equipment, to pay our driver and our sound director, and to rent a studio. We all have a small salary too. But he makes money selling our tickets, merch and records. Gets most of the profit."

"Hijikata-san knows more about it," Shinpachi-san added. "He dreams about turning that trashy living room into a home studio to reduce expenses and rely on Serizawa-sensei less."

"Then why do you detest the producer that much?" asked Chizuru. Shinpachi-san seemed to be more sympathetic towards Serizawa than the rest of the pack. "He seems to be helpful."

"You'll see when you meet him in person," sighed Harada-san. "He's rather hard to handle. Anyway, it's not forever and we can go indie again when the contract expires." 

"He treats us like a bunch of stray dogs," Heisuke-kun said gloomily. 

"We shouldn't have fallen into his trap, but we needed a financial boost to arrange things," said Okita. "Better to have taken a loan, but no stupid bank will give a loan to buy musical equipment and rent this shithole."

"Looks like you enjoy your new home. Now I can sleep in peace." Shinpachi-san smiled.

"Oh, it's frigging  _ adorable _ ," snapped Okita. 

"What about your obsession with inappropriate housing?” Saitou-san asked. “Now that you can see the insides."

"I get tons of necessary energy here,” smiled Okita. “Pure hatred and shit. Exactly what we need." 

Hijikata-san rushed into the kitchen.

"Latest news, guys! Line-up confirmed!  _ Oni 404 _ are first, don't know these guys, we are second and  _ Toyotomi  _ are for dessert _. _ "  

Okita rolled his eyes. " _ Toyotomi _ again, really?"

"Souji just does not like EBM." Saitou-san explained to Chizuru.

"Quit it, Souji, Sen-hime is so cool! She'll rip that place up." Heisuke-kun and Shinpachi-san were visibly glad. Chizuru knew neither of the bands and she stayed silent. 

"I'm more interested about the  _ Oni 404 _ guys!" 

Thus they had obtained company for the show.

…

Chizuru felt enthusiastic and very motivated about the forthcoming event. One of the certain sources of her inspiration was the band itself. Chizuru considered the latest events to be some sort of sudden luck. She was a decent fiddler but she was nothing extraordinary. That’s how she felt about herself at least. While the band was misjudged by common men, Chizuru was misjudged by herself. However, the change of circumstances was slowly rebuilding her views. She felt as though she had been thrown out a window. Out of the window of the stuffy Orchestra room into the vast space of uncertainty. The feeling was heady. 

She had gotten to know the pack better and they were honestly awesome. Despite being ridiculously different, they shared the same goal and similar beliefs. At that point in time their union seemed secure. Chizuru started to bond with everyone in her own way. 

Saitou-san was a dutiful and a meticulous person. His obsession with guitars was tremendous. He rarely raised his voice but it was always the emotionless voice of reason. When Hijikata-san with his managing skills was absent it was Saitou-san's field to remain responsible and collected. He was the only one of the gang who could calmly talk to Serizawa, or any worried policeman, or whatever displeased redneck happened in their way. Chizuru wondered where the edge of his equanimity lay. 

Harada-san was the emotional center of the band. He was handsome, tall and charismatic - an explosive combination of features any woman would fall for. Harada-san made a perfect frontman. He was the formal leader, a charming facade for the band. Harada-san was a very reliable and trustworthy person. However, he also had a melancholic side about him. Chizuru occasionally noticed him spacing out in his thoughts. 

His best friend forever, also known as Nagakura Shinpachi, had a facade of a very cheerful and ever-joking person. He tended to take risks and to seek out adventures with an open heart. Shinpachi-san was not devoid of serious issues either. Chizuru could always refer to him  for musical advice as he knew blues, classic rock, and post rock perfectly. He also was a skillful drummer with a perfect sense of rhythm. Chizuru was ashamed of herself when she learned that Shinpachi-san had a higher education. 

Heisuke-kun was a jokester and a troublemaker although he was actually a kind guy. His constant bickering with Shinpachi-san and Okita was a source of fun for everyone. Heisuke-kun had tons of different friends. Although easygoing he was not windy or superficial. He avoided talking about his family and Chizuru could understand him perfectly since she had her own family issues. He was easy to get along with and she was grateful for his support. 

Hijikata-san was an outstanding person due to his firm beliefs. He had an unshakeable opinion about everything and sometimes that trait made him unbearable. Chizuru admired his self-confidence and his ability to keep the band in one piece. Hijikata-san was rather well-known in the city as a political activist and a poet. He was the informal leader of the band, responsible for the whole idea. Unlike many others, he could make his ideas work. When he let himself to loosen up a little Chizuru could see the softer side of his personality. She suspected that Hijikata-san had made his way through a lot of of hesitation and instability to gain that sort of self-confidence. Hijikata-san also seemed to have some intricate long-time relationship with Okita. Chizuru was in total confusion about the reasons behind their senseless feud.  

Not surprisingly, the most enigmatic person of the pack for her was Okita. Chizuru gave up on her first easy impression and understood that despite being able to describe lots of things about him, she didn't know his actual thoughts. He often showed up with bruises or other exotic marks of his wandering. He always occupied corners and windowsills to mock whatever was occurring around him. He could cut in with some odd comment to make everyone instantly silent. He had a habit of spending the night at random places. He seemed self-sufficient. He was fond of driving and high speeds. He rarely missed a chance to tease her or any of the guys. Only Saitou-san got some indulgence. He harbored a bottomless amount of bitter emotions of uncertain source that she could hear in his music. He detested junk-food. He loved to explore abandoned buildings and underground hangouts. He was acquainted with strange people. He knew gypsies from the Gypsy Quarter, girls from the Red Mile, junkies and thugs from all over the Slums, policemen and sellers from the Market. He had rapid mood swings. Scary at one moment and childish at another, what was the real Okita? She assumed that all of that was the real Okita, because he never cared to restrain or organize himself for others’ sake. Furthermore, he was obviously devoted to his keyboardsmanship and the pack. 

Chizuru didn't notice the particular moment when she started to pay increasing attention to him. But somehow her wandering sight often stumbled upon him. Always living within a system of restrictions, she had a weakness for strange and wild people. She was perfectly aware of it, and was ready to fall from this new cliff. He always met her eyes with that unreadable glare of vibrant green and a lopsided smile. Well, maybe Saitou-san could read his glances, but being a good friend he kept silent. 


	6. Dope show

"Hey, Chizuru-chan, over here!" She turned around to notice Hijikata-san waving a  hand. A black microbus parked by the roadside was stuffed with people and equipment. Chizuru was the last member to join. She took a seat near Saitou-san, who was spacing out in his headphones.

Hijikata-san introduced Shimada Kai, the band's driver. Then he pointed at a petite guy with spiky hair who was busy with some items at the back of the car.

"Here's Yamazaki Susumu, our sound director. Mess with him and he'll muffle your sound. Just kidding, Yamazaki-kun! Here's Yukimura-san, our fiddler. But we all call her Chi..." Okita elbowed him and made furious eyes. "Aww… Ehm. You'll be in awe when you hear how we remade our songs with Yukimura-san."

"Nice to meet you, Shimada-san, Yamazaki-san," she greeted them, with a smile and a slight bow.

"Looking forward to working with you, Yukimura-san," Yamazaki-san told her, nodding.

The car moved off heading to the Bar Mile. Chizuru started to feel insecure. It was her first concert with them and she carried a burden of expectations. She had to prove herself worthy of the group. Her eyes were anxiously wandering around the car. Shinpachi-san and Heisuke-kun were smiling and confident as if nothing could confuse them. If not for the dry law she could think they’d already had some strong drinks. Harada-san was looking out of the window with a melancholy expression. Saitou-san seemed to be sleeping in his headphones. Okita met her glance and raised an eyebrow questioningly. She gave him a small smile and turned away to notice Yamazaki-san studying her with a blank face.

Always energetic, Hijikata-san’s voice broke her daze.

"It was certainly a good idea to pick everyone up in advance to avoid _incidents._ " He spared a glance towards Shinpachi-san and Heisuke-kun. "Now, the instructions. No alcohol, no shrooms, no brawls.” Okita rolled his eyes. “No more forgetting your stuff in the dressing room, right, Heisuke? Play the set and then do what you want. We start with a sound-check, then we have several hours to prepare. Shimada-san will drive our garbage back to the headquarters after _Toyotomi_ finish their set. I've called Kosuzu-chan too, she'll help everyone willing with makeup and shit. Any questions?"

"Let's corpse-paint Yamazaki." Okita proposed lazily. Yamazaki made an inarticulate sound of disapproval. It seemed he was another person who had tough relationship with Okita.  

...

R-club was a typical alternative club occupying a plain building on the outskirts of the Bar Mile. _What a hole,_ thought Chizuru observing the surroundings. The difference  from Philharmonic hall was obvious _._

“Too bad for a proud fiddling girl, mm?” Okita murmured into her ear.

“Not at all,” she hissed back, twitching away from him. He had a twisted view of personal boundaries. Or perhaps Chizuru constantly failed at setting them.

The pack filled a tiny dressing room without windows in the technical part of the club. It was densely stuffed with motley furniture, which had absorbed the smell of smoke and old leather eons ago. A vintage lighted makeup mirror fascinated Chizuru. Posters of various bands lining the walls glared down at them.

"Sorry, Chizuru-chan, seems that bastards forgot my request to provide you with your own dressing room," frowned Hijikata-san.

"It's okay, we'll manage it somehow." She didn't want to give him any extra worries.

The day before, Chizuru had had a hard time choosing her outfit. She owned a stack of black _conservatoire_ dresses but they were far too modest for the show. She found it funny that black was a uniform for both the classical and alternative worlds. Chizuru had taken scissors and desecrated one of her dresses, turning it into rough rags with a graduated skirt. She had combined a black tank top and a miniskirt with her creation as the top layer and got satisfied.

The guys approved her costume completely. As did Kosuzu-chan. The young stylist studied Chizuru with total attention. Despite her job, her own face had near to no makeup and her long hair was gathered into a simple bun.

"Chizuru-chan, look here… Mmm, you have heterochromia!" Everyone turned to them. "We must make good use of it. How about I paint your grey eye and leave your brown eye bare?" She proposed.

"Fine asymmetry, I guess," smiled Chizuru. "Let's try!"

Kosuzu-chan kicked the guys out of the room and started applying makeup to create a furious smokey eye. She also helped Chizuru with her outfit and hair. When they finished, the pack filled the room again. It was the first time they had prepared for a show with a girl and some awkwardness still remained. Chizuru tried to act casually, but she was worried nonetheless. Her cheeks felt hot.

"You look like a creepy porcelain doll," Heisuke-kun exhaled. "Pretty cool, though." Everyone mumbled approvingly.

"Thank you, Heisuke-kun!" Chizuru was flustered. Her gaze unconsciously drifted to Okita. He was looking at her intently, but turned away when she noticed his glance. _As if he barely recognizes me._ She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

All the guys were wearing casual black except Harada-san. He put on a wide bandage-like _obi_ with handguards of the same material combined with loose jeans. His upper-chest remained bare exposing the muscles. _We do not oppose a bit of fanservice, do we?_ Chizuru thought, feeling glad that it was not Okita's task to undress. That would be too embarrassing. She mentally scolded herself for the distracting thoughts.

…

The sound of a roaring crowd made her heart pound. Chizuru was observing the fan zone and the stage through the staff passage entrance. The dance floor was filled with a dense and very loud group of people. The bar was crowded too. The mezzanine floor above the fanzone stayed dark and empty.

 _Oni 404_ had just started their set. The deep low voice of the vocalist filled with intimidating overtones seemed to mesmerize the public. There were just two of them on the stage, the vocalist and his keyboardist, who looked no less exotic.

"They are so cool! Their sound is something close to tribal!" Chizuru cried into Heisuke-kun's ear as the noise was too loud even in the staff quarters.

"They're sorta rivals for us, but anyway the guys rock!" he cried back.

…

Chizuru felt like a robot when it was finally their turn to perform. Harada-san occupied the front edge of the stage with Saitou-san on his right and Heisuke-kun on his left. She snuck to her place behind Saitou-san. Okita joined his synth behind Heisuke-kun. Shinpachi-san flashed her a reassuring smile and went to the drums.

Bright lights washing the stage cut it off from the rest of the club. From her spot Chizuru could hardly guess what was going on in the fan zone. Harada-san surely had a better location as he cheerfully greeted the audience. She could barely remember the rest of the show as it all blended into one long roaring song. Chizuru felt weightless. Goosebumps. On the verge of tears. The atmosphere was hectic, as if some crazy New Year’s celebration had come out of blue. She could feel the crowd's feedback and the feeling was utterly different from all her previous stage experience. It was intoxicating.

After the show, the pack proceeded to their dressing room slightly stunned and silent. Fans’ chanting followed them.

"Whoa… Dudes, that was am-mazing!" Heisuke-kun widened his eyes.

"Should do this again sometime!" Laughed Shinpachi-san, slapping his shoulder. Harada-san smirked and everyone returned to their usual mood. Unlike Chizuru, the guys were more accustomed to it.

"Yukimura-san, you fit in perfectly, better than I expected." Hajime-kun gave her a small smile. She smiled back. _At least Saitou-san is honest about how he doubted my skills._

"Guys, let's go support _Toyotomi!_ " Heisuke-kun jumped up. "Chizuru-chan, you shouldn't skip their show."

They seemed to be back to normal far faster than her. Chizuru still felt a bit overwhelmed. She promised to catch up with them later and stayed alone in the dressing room to change to her casual jeans and edit her makeup. She was not ready for any extra attention.

When she did go out, she found that the dance floor was really stuffy. It was a short break before the next part and people were drifting from the bar to the stage and vice versa. There were plenty of familiar faces around. She noticed tall Harada-san's frame on the gallery and headed there. The pack was sitting around the table in the corner drinking. Fans were not allowed up to the gallery that day so the bands could rest. An energetic petite girl rushed to her.

"So _you_ are the new member, Chizuru-chan! Cool to finally meet you! I'm Sen of _Toyotomi._ " The girl was glowing with friendliness. Her gentle smile charmed Chizuru immediately.

"Nice to meet you, Sen-chan!” she smiled in response. “I bet I've seen you before in the Conservatoire."

"Ah, good old days!" Sen-chan laughed. "Your performance was incredible. The public is in awe!" The girl winked at her.

"Hey, Sen-hime, what about us? She was not the only one performing, you know!" Shinpachi-san pouted jokingly. He was addressing to Sen-chan with that flamboyant honorific. Princess surely was well-known in the underground. Aside from her light demeanor she had a sort of confident grace.

"She's a real treasure on your brutal background, guys!” Sen-chan clasped her hands in excitement. “Your producer is a genius. Tomorrow’s headlines will be all yours! Hey, Chizuru-chan, leave them be, come with us. We'll rock the city together!" The pack was struck dumb, too astonished to react. Their _treasure_ was being enticed away after the very first show.

"Thank you, Sen-chan, but it's out of question." Chizuru was too tired to think of some suitable joke. She smiled reassuringly.

"You know they are not even the best band over here. I'm sure you'll get plenty of other offers soon. Such news spread like wildfire. Is there a special reason you wish to stay that badly? Oh my… One of those gentlemen, perhaps?" She winked to frozen Chizuru and rushed to the stage where her partner was already waiting. Chizuru heard her melodic laughter fading in the distance.

"Gimme a sip," she mumbled to Shinpachi-san falling to the seat beside him. Her face felt hot. Shinpachi-san pushed his glass to her. Okita frowned. Harada-san and Heisuke-kun were trying to keep straight faces. Only Yamazaki-san was sitting with a dreamy expression not paying attention to the surroundings.

"Just got our part of the take,” called Hijikata-san, approaching their table. “The dinosaurs still pay in cash!" He raised a stuffed envelope. "What's with your faces?"

They started to chuckle.

"Sen-san tried to convince Yukimura-san to join _Toyotomi,"_ responded Saitou-san with a smile.

"Seriously? Only the first show and here they are stealing my musicians! I need a drink." Hijikata-san occupied a chair. He took out a cigarette pack and a phone. "No smoking area, damn it! They are impossible. I've already met that bastard-sama at the executive office and now Sen-hime… My being on good terms with Kimigiku-san doesn’t mean..." He continued grumbling.

Chizuru was curious about _bastard-sama_ but the music started, making talking impossible. She stood up and went to the dance floor to watch _Toyotomi’s_ show. Sen-hime's partner was a tall elegant woman in a geisha-like outfit. While Sen-hime was extremely energetic behind her laptop and keyboards, _Geisha-san_ stood serenely in the epicenter of the roaring music singing with a high voice. The people around Chizuru were dancing madly. Shinpachi-san's whiskey was working its magic on her empty stomach as she dived into the music.

After several tracks she felt a cold hand touching her shoulder. The touch seemed deliberate. Chizuru turned around to bump into Okita's chest. She looked at him with a wordless question. His eyes were two dark spots and the untied hair made him look different. Okita gave her a lopsided smile and grabbed her shoulders to turn her back to the stage. It was dark on the dancefloor while the stage basked in blue light. They swung along with other people in the rhythm of the music. In the middle of the small stuffy club in some distant city of a distant country. There was no one to recognize them in the crowd. The sudden feeling of warmth and security overwhelmed her. _The moment you own it, you better never let it go._

…

"Where have you been? Shimada-san has already gone. He can't wait the whole night! Try calling Souji, he must still be there." Hijikata-san's voice on the phone was tired.

Chizuru wished him a good night and faced the option of walking home on foot. Taxi companies were not willing to serve the Slums. She took her bag and violin case and went up the street towards civilization. The night air was chilly and refreshing. Chizuru passed several blocks thinking hesitantly about Okita, who had disappeared somewhere at the end of _Toyotomi's_ set. The night streets and bars were still crowded but nonetheless she was afraid to stay alone.

She sent a message to Okita. It didn't take long for him to answer.

 _"I'll head over there when I finish some business so be a good girl and wait for me."_ The message made her smile unconsciously.

She waited for him for quite some time, observing the colorful crowd, but he didn't show up. Chizuru decided to return to the club.

"Tell _me_ about it! I know your face, jerk! You’re Okita of the _Shinsengumi_!" She heard angry voices and instantly saw Okita surrounded by a bunch of men in front of the club. She rushed to him. Chizuru knew he could stand up for himself but the thought of him possibly being hurt was annoying.

"Am I somehow more famous than I thought?" Okita looked at his opponents with a wolfish smile.

"Shut your trap! You were the one who messed with Miyabe-sensei back then!"

"Just who's that? Another moronic copycat? Man, they're all starting to blend together."

The guys began to move towards smirking Okita. Chizuru had to do something immediately. Something to distract them. Okita was definitely jerkish enough to enrage anyone, even a more patient person. And he didn't hesitate to tease the enemy's superior forces. That could end badly.  

She took a deep breath and screamed. " _AAAAAH!_ "

They gang froze for a moment and slowly turned to the source of sound. Rare passers-by started to gather around the spot. Okita used his opening to break the circle. He pushed away the nearest guy and shifted between Chizuru and the men.

"Hey… What the hell are you doing here?!" He muttered to her.

His opponents approached him but the crowd started to resent the uneven odds. Several men came to help Okita slow his foes down. Someone tried to call the police but he was quickly interrupted. The Slums’ inhabitants tended to solve the conflicts by themselves. The confrontation ended in an instant. Okita thanked his helpers with a wide smile, took Chizuru's hand and they quickly retired. A tingling sensation floated inside her. Too much of adventures for one night.

He let go of her hand when they had gone several blocks and took her violin case instead.

"So, didn't I tell you to be a good girl and wait for me?" Okita’s face was serious but his eyes were laughing.

"Sorry. But you didn't show up for quite a time and I got worried."

"Oh, my…" he sighed. "It looked like I was protecting a pretty girl instead of being stuck with some rats. Really not in my line. Sano would be a better fit than me."   _Flippant as always._ "Well, I guess it's not that bad though. Anyway, thanks for lending a hand!" He was borderline friendly when they were alone.

"Never mind." Chizuru smiled timidly. “What was the ruckus about?”

"I bet I strongly resemble someone who offended their patron,” snickered Okita. “By the way, did you call me to walk you out of this mess?" He waved a hand to circle the surroundings. "Quite an inappropriate place for a conservatoire girl, isn't it?"

"I'm not that hopeless, you know," Chizuru muttered desperately. She’d been unfit for her orchestra and now she was too orchestral for the rock band. "But, yeah, I wanted to ask you to do the job that is _really_ _not in your line_. I'm afraid to be here alone this late." The girl decided to be frank. The obvious fact that she didn’t call someone more chivalrous and appropriate like Harada-san was left hanging in the air between them.

"Hmm. Okay, I can walk you to the Crossroad to call you a taxi,” Okita said with a light smile. “They do serve the Crossroad area. It’s not so far from the headquarters too." _Honesty is the best tactic anyway._

"You do know the Slums."

"The Slums are not half as horrible as people consider them to be," he replied, shrugging.

They drifted through the lights of Bar Mile. Okita commented on the notable places they passed and recalled the local fables. The Slums, being diverse and vibrant, strangely suited him, as he considered himself to be out of place almost everywhere. He could be distant at first if not hostile, but gradually he was letting his guard drop a little bit. Chizuru confessed to him that she’d spent plenty of time in several Dark Scene clubs attending concerts, but had never stayed up all night and never partied hard. After all, what was the problem with her having a different background since they still could find some contact points? She felt both comfortable and a little on edge as Okita never missed a chance to add a sarcastic remark. He had a truly triumphant smile at such moments. Chizuru could never have guessed he would have such childlike sweetness about him. Or perhaps it was just a delusion of the crazy night.

One of the restaurants they passed was marked as "Kondou-san's favorite". So the stepfather was mentioned again. However she decided not to ask more, in order to prevent her companion from retreating back into his shell. It was odd to hear Okita calling his father by his last name.

...

While the taxi was taking Chizuru home she couldn't calm down. She decided to ask Harada-san about Okita’s family matter. Unfortunately, his answer did not satisfy her curiosity.

 _"Chizuru-chan, I'm glad that you’re interested in our band's background. But I feel wrong talking about Souji's family. You'd better ask him yourself. Sorry!"_ This message made her blush. What a shame!

…

Chizuru’s family was obviously not delighted to meet her in the morning. It was a very early morning, practically dawn, but her parents had even invited her cousin Kaoru for another act of persuasion. Thus they had a tough encounter about her wrong choices. _Sweet Yukimura family morning!_ The burden of the band's expectations was much lighter than that of her family. _I've had enough of this shit already,_ she thought, making the hard decision to break the cycle of mutual helplessness and frustration. Chizuru fervently looked through the rent proposals again (as she did almost every evening), but the prices were all too high and the locations were too distant from their headquarters. She was too nervous to sleep, so she was sitting in her room shuffling the options. The decision came out of the clear blue sky...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I’m not sure which chapter is my favorite, this one or the next =) I’ve had a pleasant time writing it. Hope you’ll like it too. Some Hakuouki game reminiscences are included.


	7. Neighbourhood

They tended to have a _very_ late dinner. The dinner tended to evolve into a long talk, watching movies or even jam sessions. Their neighbours undoubtedly adored these displays of wild energy late in the evening. The local policeman knew Shinpachi's face, but somehow Shinpachi managed to avoid serious trouble. Nobody remembers the details now, but maybe the policeman had a soft spot for rock or even industrial. Let's pay tribute to his indulgence.

That evening, however, they were too tired to mess around.

"What d’ya think, guys, does Chizuru-chan have a boyfriend?" Heisuke asked musingly, poking his rice with chopsticks.

"Dumbo, what sort of boyfriend would let his girl hang out with us?" Shinpachi smiled. "She practically spends all of her time with the band."

Sano nodded. "She doesn't look like she has a partner, gossiper-kun." At that moment he felt a vibration in his pocket. _Here she is,_ he thought, taking out his phone and leaving the room. The conversation didn't last long.

"I'd say she may have one by the end of this year," mumbled Sano returning.

"What?" Heisuke goggled his eyes.

"Oh, Heisuke, don't listen to me, just hoaxing." Sano smiled. "I have some urgent business now. Take care." He took his car keys and left.  

...

Chizuru's heart was racing. Phone calls always made her feel uncomfortable.

"Hello?"

"Mm, good evening, Harada-san. Sorry for the late call." She was anxiously walking about the room.

"Hi, Chizuru-chan, never mind. Those two will never let me go to bed before midnight." She heard Heisuke-kun and Shinpachi-san being extremely noisy in the background.

"Harada-san, could you do me a favor? Would it be too much trouble for you to pick me up and drive to the headquarters now? Mmm… Can I stay there for some time? I've already packed my belongings."

"Sure thing... but are you okay?” he asked anxiously. “Did anything happen? What's this all of a sudden?"

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Can explain it to you later. I made up my mind a while ago, it's not spontaneous." The words followed one another as she was worried that Harada-san would not understand.

"Okay... Do you live near the Marketplace? I guess I'll pick you up in twenty minutes. The roads are empty now. Text me your address. See you." To her relief he agreed immediately. She thanked him and hung up. _What a gentle person Harada-san is._

Chizuru didn't know why she hesitated to ask Okita to help her with her move. After all he also had a car. She was afraid of his possible disapproval or whatever reaction he would come up with. He had that intimidating vibe around him and Chizuru felt like she was disturbing his privacy. Although she certainly had every right to live in the headquarters as a band member. It was not Okita's private property or anything. Thus she decided to team up with Harada-san and rely on his support.

…

While planning her escape, Chizuru had worked out a semblance of agreement with her parents. She had built a line of defence by focusing their attention on her need for a suitable place for rehearsals and maintaining the classical music practice. Of course, she avoided to mention the particular location of that _suitable place_. The family disagreement was rapidly getting out of hand and Chizuru decided that separation would do them good.

Her luggage consisted of a suitcase with clothes, electronics and cosmetics, two violins, an amplifier and two large trash bags, filled with remaining shoes and clothes. She also took some memorable trinkets and books. Leaving her usual surroundings was hard, but Chizuru was determined to get away.

Harada-san arrived on time. He packed her stuff into the car and they left for the headquarters.

"So, Chizuru-chan, what happened?” he asked immediately. “Surely it must be something rough for you to prefer living with Souji. I didn't call him. Wanna see his face, when we come up out of blue." A faint smile curved his lips. Poor Okita.

"Well, Harada-san, I'm not going to live _with_ Okita-san.” Chizuru frowned. “Besides, I heard he often sleeps out." She didn't expect that sort of question to appear so soon.

"Yep, he does. By the way, you can call me Sanosuke or Sano. Enough with this Harada-san thing. Oh, sh-shit! Where did he come from?!" He braked hard to avoid  the pedestrian who’d jumped into the road out of nowhere. "That jerk… Sorry, Chizuru-chan. The suicide volunteers are especially active at night."

"Oh, please don't mind me." It was unusual to see Harada… Sano-san lose his cool composure. "So… I've been having a hard time with my family for several weeks now. They saw some live clips and they completely disapprove of me playing with the underground band. They think I'll ruin my future. Oh, it’s such a shame!" Chizuru buried her face in her hands. It was extremely uncomfortable for her to cause trouble while she was still a newbie.

"Sorry to hear that,” Sano-san said slowly. “I'm sure they just want you to be happy, wealthy and all that. I can imagine how the whole thing must look to an outsider. A bunch of freaks is not the best frame for a girl like you." He smirked. "We are already used to such attitudes, some even _look forward_ to it, but you haven't confronted that shit yet. And the worst thing is to deal with your own family. I get it…" He fell silent. "Are you sure this was the best way out? To quit home and move to the base?"

"Well, if I had enough money to rent a decent room, I would have moved much earlier,” answered Chizuru. “Not only because of this conflict. We'll settle it somehow. It's very inconvenient to practise with everyone around. Besides, every multi-apartment building has a pair of sensitive neighbours... You know, in orchestra times I spent a lot of time at our base in the Harbour district. Practically my second home. I'm sure it will be more convenient to live in the headquarters. Will anyone mind my presence there, do you think?" She was very nervous about the band's reaction. Okita and Hijikata-san worried her the most.

"Chizuru-chan, relax. You’re one of us now, and we'll help you out. I'm sure Heisuke and Shinpachi won't be very happy to leave you in Souji's custody. So you should expect some regular guests." Sano-san smiled. Chizuru burst into laughter of relief.  

The small peaceful quarters of Marketplace and Pine Park changed into the wide streets of the Workmen district. Then the car dived into the hectic grid of the Slums’ streets. The houses here were motley and eclectic. _Vernacular architecture_ , she recollected the term. Some streets basked in the electric lights, others were gloomy and dark. Chizuru felt goosebumps on her arms just by looking at them. It was pretty late already, but the illuminated streets looked rather lively.

"I still doubt Hijikata-san’s decision to set our new base here,” Sano-san mumbled, turning to the western part of the district. “I know his reasons, but… Please, take care of yourself and try not to leave the base without Souji, especially after sunset."

"Is it that dangerous?" Chizuru asked, her eyes widening. That thought had never crossed her mind before. Meanwhile, the Western Slums looked more deserted and dilapidated than ever. Black holes of broken windows flickered in the twilight.

"I'm not sure. Souji says the danger of the Slums is being purposely exaggerated by the local authorities but you shouldn't let your guard down anyway. Especially since you are going to live in the western part. In fact, some people will say you've gone nuts like Souji to willingly live here. Hmm… Oh, here's our base." Sano-san turned into the dark yard.

The alleyway was desolate and dark, the mansion gates were open. Chizuru noticed Okita’s car parked in the shed some distance away. One first-floor window was glowing in the dark. Chizuru’s spirits were not at their heights; her self-doubt started again. She got out of the car, breathing the cold night air.

"Chizuru-chan, please, go get Souji. I cannot let you stay here alone." Sano-san gave her a hesitant smile. Chizuru nodded and proceeded to the mansion. She opened the door with her key and entered the hall. Okita was sitting in the kitchen with a laptop and headphones on, dressed in old jeans and a shirt with rolled up sleeves. She knocked the wall to get his attention. Okita’s eyes widened and he blinked in surprise. A second later his lips formed a lopsided smile.

"My my, if it isn't Chizuru-chan visiting me again. Welcome to Western Mordor." He approached her with widespread arms.

"Glad to see you too, Okita-san." She returned his wry smile. "Sorry for the late visit, but could you please follow me? Sano-san is waiting outside." She restrained herself from more detailed apologies.  

"Oh, so _Sano-san_ is here too," he muttered. He put on his jacket in the hall and they went outside.

"Evening, Souji!" Sano-san raised a hand. He couldn't help but smile at Okita's complicated expression. "We have a special occasion here. You see, Chizuru-chan is going to be your neighbor for some time." Sano-san couldn't have put it better, in Chizuru’s opinion. "I hope you'll look for some more appropriate accommodation at least," he added, turning his face to her.

"Not sure yet, although some Slum-scapes are a great motivation. Please, bear with me, Okita-san." Chizuru bowed.

"Hmm. You'll see that I'm not the worst thing about this house. You shouldn't ask _me_ to bear." He smiled nonchalantly. "So you got me here to help with Chizuru-chan's luggage, right?"

"Yup," said Sano-san opening the car's trunk. "It's not much though."

Together they took her belongings to the second floor. There were three small bedrooms and a bathroom. The lights in the hall were dim.

"This is a guest room, this room is mine and that one, I guess, is yours," Okita pointed at the room opposite to his.

He put the suitcase into her room and turned a worried face to them.

"You’d better sleep in my room tonight. _Pick up your jaws_." He snickered. "I bet that you don't want the company of… insects. You can make that trash more suitable for life tomorrow."

"Oh, listen to him, Chizuru-chan!" Sano-san rolled his eyes.

"Come on, be a good girl. You don't get such generous proposal every day."

"Alright, thank you, Okita-san! Are you okay with that?" Chizuru couldn't bring herself to ask for details, although she suspected cockroaches were the mysterious insects.

"Don't worry about me," he smiled.

"Well, I'll drop by to check up on you tomorrow. And we have a rehearsal soon. You'll have time to settle things. See you!" Chizuru thanked Sano-san and he departed, leaving them alone.

"I'll bring you a futon." His face grew serious as if the mask had vanished from it. Chizuru nodded. "Hijikata-san's made a warehouse out of the guest room. In case of siege perhaps."

She waited for him in the hall, unsure what to do. _Does he mind my presence?_ She had a sudden insight into Sano-san's words about people saying _she's gone nuts like Souji to willingly live here._ It felt like there was a solid line was drawn between the two of them and the sane world.

Okita returned with a futon and invited her into his room. The lights there were dim as well but she could see how bare his environment was.

"Make yourself at home." He rolled his own bed into a bundle, took it and proceeded to the exit. "Fear not, you'll get used to it. This place sure has its benefits too. If rats don't show up. Sleep well, we can talk tomorrow." He grinned and left. She heard him settling a bed in the other room. He was very nice after all, trying to comfort her in his odd manner. _Definitely, he must be joking about rats!_

Chizuru visited the bathroom, which was very worn out, but had traces of Okita's attempts to arrange it. Then she returned to his room. It was a narrow box with one window and walls freshly painted in violet. _A cool yet warm color_. Some boards of the old wooden floor were creaking. The furnishings consisted of her own futon, one of Okita's synths (another one stood in the rehearsal room), his suitcase, a low table and a hanger with his winter outerwear. There was also a small reading lamp on the floor with a number of books and notepads nearby. She bent down to take a look. There was a shabby paperback of Cormac McCarthy's "The Road", Robert Heinlein's "Orphans of the Sky" and three notepads with traces of frequent usage. She added the titles to her mental profile of Okita, unsure how to interpret the information, and went to bed.

Chizuru was scared of the dark house, so she left the lamp on. This new home promised to be a serious challenge for her. The night tranquility was filled with noises of all sorts. She heard dogs barking, floorboards creaking by themselves, breezes blowing and unknown things rustling. The damn house itself was breathing. Soon the nervousness of the day took advantage of her and she fell asleep.

At three in the morning, an insomniac Okita saw a streak of light coming from his/her room and went in to check. The girl had fervently rolled herself into the blanket and curled up near his books. Messy strands of her long hair spread out on the blanket. _Poor thing,_ he thought, and smiled. Okita knew the creaky floorboards perfectly, so he noiselessly turned off the lamp and left.

…

The next day Chizuru met Okita only at noon. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes. Tea and a bowl of rice were his breakfast. It was a strange feeling to see him wandering so casually about the kitchen, with old ‘home’ jeans on and his hair down. Her presence didn't seem to embarrass him in the slightest. On her part, Chizuru felt a bit tense, excitement mixed with fear in her mind.   

"You know, a kind person like Sano-san would say that your parents love you no matter what and all that jazz,” declared Okita, looking out the window. “But don't expect that from me. Maybe you hurt their ego. Perhaps they brought you up to be a living monument to their achievements and you ended up screwing that.” His smile was almost amused and not a fraction compassionate. “Everyone has the right to be selfish; I don't blame them. Not all parents love their children, after all. The world’s not fair. You must always be on guard not to let it knock you down. So cheer up!" He finally shrugged.

That certainly wasn’t a way to comfort her. Chizuru looked at him wondering what kind of life experience could influence him in such way.

"Thank you, Okita-san…" she mumbled nonetheless.  

"You still can marry some very important guy to secure your social status so that they’ll be happy," he added with a smirk. "Rich girls can break bad whenever they like."

"Precisely what I am doing right now,” she retorted. _Breaking bad._ “You’re so supportive." _Why is he always like this? You never know if he’s serious or not._

"Please, bear with me!" Okita smiled, raising his hands.

So their co-living and co-working began. In fact, Chizuru rarely encountered him at _home,_ as he was often absent. Anyway, she felt embarrassed asking him about his whereabouts. He didn't owe her anything, right?

The house they inhabited turned out to be the real pain in the neck. It had problems with water supply, with _insects_ , with old wooden windows that refused to open or to close and creaked horribly. In fact, almost everything in the house creaked horribly. Chizuru suspected that heating in winter would be a real disaster because the mansion had a coal boiler in the basement.

They say common troubles can bring people together and that started to happen in some way. Accustomed to safe and wealthy housing, Chizuru was afraid to sleep alone in the dark old mansion. Every evening they locked all the doors carefully and she proceeded to her room with the big old-school lantern that Okita fetched from some dumpsite. The lights in the hall and on the main stairs were awfully dim, but no one cared to replace them. Chizuru often stayed up until very late waiting for her eyes to close by themselves. Okita once found her sitting with the lantern on the dark staircase afraid to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water. He led her there by the hand and forced her to sleep in his presence. He was teasing as always but never hesitated to help her. Chizuru’s fears seemed to amuse him in some way. However, he often slept out so she had to cope with her fears alone.

Chizuru faced a complete lack of useful things like comfortable clothes, warm blankets or kitchen utensils. She spent some of her savings to organize her everyday life. It was her very first time creating her own household, no matter how brutal it was.

Occasional phone calls with her parents added fuel to the fire. Since Chizuru was already twenty one, she had every right to live by herself and her parents didn't oppose it. The real problem was her occupation. For the time being they settled on discreet neutrality.

…

The first feedback the band got after the R-club show was acceptable. Hijikata-san considered it brilliant; Okita thought it was better than expected. In fact, the majority of their fans were involved in constant debates about the new member. Chizuru found social media feeds overflowing with her blurred photos. She received tons of friend requests and some new job offers. The hype started to overflow the boundaries of the local underground.

…

"Hajime-kun, don't you think Chizuru-chan looks down?" Souji asked his friend when the rehearsal room was finally empty. They had stayed behind after the evening rehearsal to collect their stuff.

"I guess moving out has not been easy for her,” answered the muffled voice from the corner. “I cannot understand it since I have lived on my own for a long while, but it may be tough for her."

"Oh, I see. Her folks seem to misjudge us for some criminals or something.” Souji frowned. “Bastards call her every evening telling her annoying shit. Then her cousin calls her telling more crap..."

"Souji. Don't be so rough.” Hajime turned to him, his tone slightly reproachful. “That is none of our business. Although we can try to cheer Yukimura up. It will be no good if she starts to slow the work down due to her personal matters."

"Reasonable as always, huh? What could we do?... Hmm." Souji's face lightened in an instant. The devilish expression Hijikata-san disliked the most appeared on his face. Not for nothing was Hijikata-san so cautious.  

…

"Okita-san, what are you reading? The rehearsal is about to start!" Chizuru found him chuckling over some notebook in his room. Her worries were a little exaggerated because only Hijikata-san had come on time. He was examining his records in the basement.

"Take a look here, Chizuru-chan. The guys are late anyway." He tapped the floor beside him and offered her the notebook. The strands of her hair brushed his shoulder as she dropped at his side.

Chizuru looked over the page and snickered.

"Wh-what is it?

_Even though it's spring_

_I feel cold sleeping in this old shack_

_and I see the moon."_

They burst into laughter. "Ridiculous! Who's that? _Hogyoku_. Is that your pen-name, Okita-san?"

"It's a secret. Just read." He smiled, enjoying the moment. _Making Chizuru-chan laugh at Hogyoku’s expense is priceless._

_"The sun rises._

_Inevitable as always._

_I wonder, why?_ P-ha-ha. Definitely, why does it rise?"

That moment they heard a roar from below.

_"SO-OUJI!!!"_

"Seems that _Hogyoku’_ s discovered the loss. Keep it to yourself for now." Okita winked at her and disappeared from the room.

"W-wait, Okita-san! Damnit!" Chizuru ran to the first floor hiding the notebook under her sweatshirt.

Chaotic noise from the backstairs reached her ears. She stumbled into Shinpachi-san, Sano-san and Heisuke-kun entering the main hall. Hijikata-san was nowhere to be seen.

"Did Hijikata-san start being a sporty-boy? Way to go!" Shinpachi-san said with wide eyes.

"Nope, he's just chasing Okita-san.” Chizuru drew out the notebook. “For this." She waved in the direction of the kitchen and the pack quietly followed her. Soon the room rocked with laughter. Saitou-san came in blinking in surprise.

"Hajime-kun, take a look here!" Heisuke-kun called him.

"So our poet-in-chief has not gotten rid of his early verses," noted Saitou-san, looking through the pages with a stiff expression. The corners of his lips, however, were trembling.

"Bastards!” gasped Hijikata-san, appearing in the kitchen. “Give the fucking book over." Tousled hair and mad eyes made him look really intimidating. The smiles withered.  

"You are welcome, Hijikata-san," Saitou-san handed him the book.

"Thanks." He nodded shortly and headed to the basement.

"Buddy, you’re no fun,” said Shinpachi-san. Saitou-san spared him a stern glance.

“Did you get rid of _your_ teen poetry, Sano?" Shinpachi-san asked his friend with a sly smile.

"Burnt it all when I turned eighteen," Sano-san answered quickly.  

"My my, I didn't expect you to be that stealthy." A smiling Okita squeezed into the kitchen looking at Chizuru. "Good job."

"Looks like there’s the second Souji here," said Heisuke-kun, rolling his eyes. "We can hardly handle the first one."

"Let's go comfort Hijikata-san." Sano-san returned to the hall. "That was hilarious, but never do it again. Who's gonna do the dirty work if Hijikata-san has a heart attack?"

The pack spent quite a time reassuring Hijikata-san and making the vows of obedient behavior. He eventually surrendered and sentenced them to extra work. That was a perfect moment to establish some of Serizawa-san's recommendations, but Hijikata-san had mercy.

…

"Chizuru-chan, let's go!” Heisuke-kun called to her. “We can drive you home."

Everyone had gathered in the hall. Sano-san was observing the ceiling. _He didn't tell them_ , thought Chizuru. She imagined their faces when they found out the truth and…

"Mm, you see, Heisuke-kun, I live here now..." she started. They instantly made that particular face.

"Wow! Did Souji blackmail you?” The rascals started chuckling. “He has some dirt on you, huh?" Even Saitou-san cracked a smile.

"Oh, come on, guys!" she protested meekly. Okita's hand grabbed her shoulder. He leaned forward to face the men.

"Keep calm and don't get jealous, pals. You couldn't expect me to live in this hole alone!" Okita smirked. Sano-san sighed.   

The exchange of sarcastic words continued for a bit. Finally, everyone left and Okita turned to her. His smirk faded.

"What's with that face?” he asked. “Well, maybe it was a little much. But I bet you don't want to lecture them on your family problems. Smile and joke back, they'll get used to it."

"Okay, but... Anyway, I don't need any excuses to live here with you." _Oh, really?_ "How did you escape Hijikata-san?” She changed the topic.

Okita looked up, a smirk curving his lips again. “I drew his attention to the back stairs and then quietly hid in your room.” He glanced at her, as if asking ‘How’s that?’

Chizuru chortled to hide her confusion. Her room contained clotheslines stretched between the opposite walls, no furniture and the occasional mess. “Probably the last place for Hijikata-san to check. You’re never dull.”

“You’ve already occupied my room once, it was my turn today.”

“Indeed. By the way, it's supper time. Wanna eat?"

"Thank you, I'll pass. Good night." He headed upstairs.

Chizuru heard the click of the door being shut and went to the kitchen. _It wouldn’t be bad to have a close friend_ , she mused. A confidante who could listen to her and give some advice. She couldn't decipher Okita’s demeanor, not in the slightest. The sounds of synth from the second floor reached her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you could notice this chapter contains a tribute to the infamous episode with Souji stealing Hijikata-san's poetry book. It is presented in some Hakuouki Drama CD. I find it brilliant but I like it even more in Peacemaker Kurogane (15th episode). I recommend you to pay attention to this series if you haven't noticed it yet. I laugh every time I watch this episode, it's really adorable. And the portrayal of Shinsengumi in Peacemaker Kurogane is so careful... I enjoy it a lot.


	8. Tough luck

"No sleep again?" he asked, popping his head into her room. 

"Eek!" Chizuru jumped on her futon. She’d gotten absorbed in the book and forgotten about time. "You scared me, Okita-san."

"How about being scared a little bit more? And in good company." Okita flashed her a promoter's smile. "Got some horror movies."

"Sounds good!" she answered, following him to his room. 

Due to Okita’s bad influence, Chizuru totally screwed up her daily schedule. They developed a habit of night film-watching when they both couldn't sleep. Chizuru was not much into films, but she didn't mind an occasional movie in Okita's company. He often asked her to watch horrors although they didn't scare him in the slightest. In fact, he found them laughable and amusing. Chizuru was not sure what was the most entertaining for him - the movie itself or teasing her for her displays of nervousness. All sudden loud sounds made her shudder. 

They occupied their usual places in front of Okita’s laptop when the alert of his phone broke the silence. Chizuru heard the same sound from her room. 

"The band's chatroom," muttered Okita. 

The pack had two chatrooms set up in the messenger. The first one was called "official". It had zero tolerance for twaddle and mostly contained Hijikata-san's announcements. The second one was informal and contained the occasional flood about this and that. The latest hot topic was Chizuru's move, and the jokes and insinuations were driving her mad. She still wasn't used to the rough and ready manners that prevailed among the pack. A couple of times Chizuru had teamed up with Okita to successfully troll everyone in the chat. 

"Hijikata-san isn’t sleeping either," noted Chizuru.

"Yeah, he doesn't sleep much,” answered Okita. “He's  _ so busy  _ after all. Look." He showed her the phone. 

_ "Urgent meeting tomorrow after 5 p.m. VERY IMPORTANT!! No skipping!"  _

"Tch. It's been a week and a half since the last show and he's already come up with some  _ very important _ shit," muttered Okita. 

"At least we won't oversleep it." 

"True enough." He cracked a smile and turned on the movie. 

…

Chizuru’s first week in the new place made a mockery of her expectations. The things she was scared of the most turned out to run smoothly. At the same time, she faced several unexpected problems. Chizuru was not an experienced cook and she didn't know how to organize their meals and how to divide the duties. However, it somehow  settled by itself. To everyone’s surprise, Okita seemed to be a comfortable neighbour for her. 

Using a common bathroom had promised to be confusing, but Okita carried his bathing belongings to the first floor and left the room for her. 

The headquarters turned out to be a real public thoroughfare. Okita couldn't find a worse place to cradle his privacy. Besides their frequent rehearsals, the band found tons of reasons to gather. Saitou-san was a regular visitor for breakfast to work over the new pieces. Chizuru was confused when she bumped into Saitou-san in their kitchen for the first time. He could be very sneaky at times. Hijikata-san liked to drop by for any possible reason. The rhythm-and-vocal section also didn't miss a chance to pay a visit.

Like never before, Chizuru was feeling alive and involved. Little by little the crack in her shell grew. Her time was filled with her favorite work, and she started to feel that her life was finally on the right track.

…

"Look, guys, it's Niimi-san's car!" Heisuke-kun exclaimed, turning away from the window. The pack was sitting in the living room. Five p.m., full team, no delays. 

"What?!" Hijikata-san raised his head. "Really, it's him. No wonder, he's curious too. Serizawa-san’s all enraptured." 

"Who's Niimi-san?" Chizuru whispered to the others.

"Serizawa-sensei's official asskisser," muttered Shinpachi-san. 

"An assistant," added Sano-san. 

"Hijikata-san, tell us already, what happened!" Heisuke-kun moaned. 

Shinpachi-san stood up to open the door for Niimi-san and soon returned with a small man with sharp eyes and a tightly clenched jaw. He had quite an arrogant expression about his face. The man greeted everyone and occupied Saitou-san's usual armchair. Saitou-san was always very particular about his property, so Chizuru didn't envy that Niimi-san. Hijikata-san cleared his throat and started his speech. 

"Who’s read the latest news?... I see," he said with a stiff expression, registering their confused faces. Saitou-san opened his mouth in an attempt to speak but changed his mind. " _ Responsible _ adults. We have a problem, guys! Our recent success is not all roses." He took out the tablet to show them several news feeds. "Some religious freaks noticed our show and now are getting their panties in a twist over our humble selves."

"And what's the problem with that?” Shinpachi-san asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's not the first time we are badmouthed by a bunch of weirdos." 

"The problem is, Shinpachi, that this time we are the unwilling participants in a larger game. I suspect that at least. These guys are not your ordinary fundies. There are several public organisations opposing youth corruption and shit. And their leaders are acquainted with local authorities, that's for sure." 

Chizuru opened her laptop to look through the local news. She faced flashy titles like ‘Corrupted society: a challenge for xxxarian youth’, ‘The truth about satanic musical bands’, ‘Musical extremism’ and so on. She had been so busy with her new life that she hadn’t noticed this wave. The others had obviously been too nonchalant to notice it either. The first feedback after the concert had been positive until the news spread wide enough. 

The atmosphere in the room had tensed right up. In the face of dull reality, their recent optimistic spirits seemed a bit unreasonable.  _ Parents aside, everything was going way too smoothly,  _ thought Chizuru.

"So, to put it bluntly, we are a comfortable object to blame and gain cheap political points, right?" asked Sano-san. 

"That's what I'm mostly afraid of," answered Hijikata-san. "They can bury us in no time. The local media is already in an uproar."

"How can it be real?!" Heisuke-kun asked. "Every sane person knows who we are! We don't give a shit about their religious crap." Some guys nodded their agreement. 

"If you step out of your social circle once in a while, you might discover something interesting!" Hijikata-san answered, annoyance in his voice. "Come on, it's been a while since the conservative trend has accelerated. Do you think all the people you meet on the streets are that open-minded and educated?" Heisuke-kun pouted. "If they see a  _ Satanism _ label, they will most likely dismiss us without understanding. To hell with the fact that we've nothing to do with satanism or whatever shit."

"I wouldn't worry about the fundies alone: such people are clearly manipulated by someone," noted Sano-san, putting a hand on Heisuke-kun's shoulder. "I'm more afraid that we can’t defend ourselves worth a shit if they accuse us in breaking the law about offending religious feelings or, which is much worse, the anti-extremism law." Shinpachi-san and Heisuke-kun turned terrified eyes to him. Okita was staring at the opposite wall with a blank expression.

"I know it sounds like nonsense!” exclaimed Hijikata-san. “But if we’ve really caught the public’s eye, it's not our cozy underground matter anymore." 

"If I may interrupt Hijikata-kun…" Niimi-san started. Chizuru felt that Okita, who was sitting by her side, tensed up.  _ Yep, _ she thought.  _ Quite a shady dude. _

Niimi-san continued. "Gentlemen… and lady." He nodded at Chizuru. "I'd say that we’re in dire straits now, but Serizawa-sensei considers every issue a new possibility. Your sudden popularity must not be wasted." Chizuru noticed that Okita clenched his fist and then relaxed it. 

"Does he have any particular proposals?" Okita asked. It was not very polite to interrupt but like hell he cared.

"Serizawa-sensei suggests striking while the iron is hot,” Niimi-san continued, cutting them a sideways glance. “He is broad-minded enough to associate with various types of people. He’s made an agreement with a club owner in the Central district to host your show. You have a week to prepare." Niimi-san pursed his lips.

There was a shocked silence. Heisuke-kun froze with his mouth open. Okita and Saitou-san scowled. Chizuru knew that they had planned to continue writing the new material. Thus instead of ceasing public activities in an attempt to wait out the storm they were ordered to stay in the firing line. That was undoubtedly the _perfect_ time to ride roughshod over sensitive individuals.

"Probably, it would be better if we wait for the fuss to calm down a bit," Sano-san started carefully. "Newspapers will forget about it in a while."

"You can address your objections to Serizawa-sensei," Niimi-san retorted, narrowing his eyes. "We are also in contact with Amagiri-sensei and his protégés so you won’t suffer all alone, mhm. Serizawa-sensei believes that it's your only chance to become well-known. If you accept only flawless clean ways you'll never make it, that's how he stated it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…" He stood up.

"We won't hold you up any longer," Hijikata-san guided Niimi-san to the front door. The pack exchanged heavy glances. 

"What the fuck was that?!" Shinpachi-san voiced the common thought.

"It means that we have to refine the setlist faster than planned," Saitou-san said. "We should have the material really nailed. And undoubtedly, we will need to postpone the new songs again." 

Hijikata-san returned to the room. "So  _ he _ wants us to earn the fame points by any means possible. Interesting..." He occupied the chair and reached into the pocket to pull out a cigarette pack. "I cannot honestly say that Serizawa-san’s completely wrong, although it's risky. For him, it seems that everyone gains from this situation, both the fundies and the musicians." 

"The dude sure wants a lot in exchange for buying us some shit," Okita said coldly. "He teaches Hijikata-san to do his work, yells at Kondou-san, messes with our membership. And now he arranges our shows for us!" 

Chizuru felt uneasy, being the one who had infiltrated the  _ membership _ . 

"Calm down, Souji." Sano-san tried to reassure him. "We'll have the next show sooner or later. And then we'll face the freaks again. They won't leave us alone easily." 

The band spent several hours discussing the plan. Their initial schedule had included writing new songs and refining the setlist until New Year’s shows and then performing a small tour over nearby cities in January. Hijikata-san had already been contacting the local organizers. But the new circumstances had to be taken into account. Despite the common shock they managed to finish the meeting in relatively high spirits. Only Heisuke-kun was upset.

"It's just ridiculous!" he said. "Have they ever taken a look into the lyrics? There's nothing about mocking the religion. Well, maybe just a bit..." He turned a doubtful glance to Chizuru. Only the two of them were in the room after the band had left to cool heads and get beverages. 

"I think that even if it's a bit mocking, they still have no right to oppose the show." Chizuru answered. "What happens behind closed doors has nothing to do with any outsiders. It’s not free and it’s not open." Okita had surely communicated his intransigence into her. 

"I just don't get it how they miss the obvious things…" Heisuke-kun was unexpectedly sad. Maybe it was his first time facing unreasonable unfairness. 

In the evening Chizuru received a phone call from her parents who, unlike the band, had read the news and were agitated more than ever. Since Chizuru was the only girl in the _ evil  _ male band, her public reputation had become ambiguous. The whole situation was ridiculous, but she didn't know how to protect herself. Her parents were exasperated and she spent plenty of time comforting them. Okita, who observed the whole conversation with an annoyed face took her on a long walk to the Central Slums. 

Chizuru made an effort to refrain from writing an angry note in her social media - Hijikata-san would probably do it better. However she received some friendly messages. One of them was from  _ Toyotomi's _ Sen-chan. All in all, the community’s reaction was more reasonable than Chizuru had expected. Support from dozens of unknown people made her feel more confident. 

Chizuru started to understand Hijikata-san's wish to set the rehearsal base in the middle of nowhere. The place was hard to reach and no curious reporter or offended fundamentalist could bother them. Pluss the local neighbourhood was close and friendly. Many people there knew Okita. They all called him  _ Souji _ and he didn't mind. He was very friendly with the landlord's children. Chizuru enjoyed seeing him turn from cocky sarcastic Okita into jolly Souji. The Slums were that rare place where children still grew up on the streets. Despite it being an early October the kids spent most of the day outside and the pack was constantly running into them. 

…

Meanwhile the countdown to the next show began. Saitou-san and Okita were incredibly irritated by the fact that the work on the new release had been postponed again. The band had a lot to do with dynamics, tempo, tones, melodies, harmonies. Moreover, there were issues with the songs’ presentation itself. The pack needed to find the right emotions, suitable movements, ‘hit’ places. The inclusion of the new member had definitely changed the accents. Chizuru was overwhelmed with the amount of work, though her contribution as a fiddler was not that much.  

“People do not attend our shows to listen to the music!” exclaimed Hijikata-san another day. Okita rolled his eyes. He didn’t enjoy their commander’s motivational speeches. 

“People long to be captured and engaged, to experience special moments, to refresh their feelings!” continued Hijikata-san. “Sano is perfect at holding the audience, and Shinpachi is very energetic, but the others still need to practice.” 

While the band was busy polishing the setlist and brainstorming over the suitable between-songs banter, Hijikata-san decided not to sit on his hands. He wanted to start a small informational war in the vast spaces of the local media. Their city was not a capital, but a megapolis with three million inhabitants sure had a room to maneuver. Hijikata-san engaged all available resources from his personal blog to the media willing to participate. At the same time he performed his usual work as the band's manager. No wonder he didn't have much time to sleep.

"Local authorities may have a direct contact with the religious leaders,” Hijikata-san warned. “You know, the xxxarian church leaders are often encountered in the company of the Mayor and his officials. Nothing good will come from that union." 

…

That week Chizuru met Okita only during breakfasts and rehearsals. He often slept out and she had no idea where he was. Their life on the base started to resemble two parallel lines. If it were any other band member she wouldn't be affected. That's how the things properly should be between the colleagues. Calm professional relations and all. However, Chizuru couldn't make herself consider things in such way. She was slightly afraid that Okita still opposed her presence in the band. He tended to have impressive mood swings and Niimi-san's words could trigger some new shit in his head. 

…

Encountering the infamous Serizawa-san in the flesh was another notable event. In the middle of the week, Hijikata-san took Chizuru with him to visit the Central district's club. He probably expected some alternative reaction from Serizawa-san, but the man confirmed his reputation completely. The producer turned out to be a tough nut. He belonged to the previous generation of businessmen who started their careers in the harsh times when brute force and fear had decided so much. He had taken part in the active market partitioning and had dealt a lot with bribery, intimidation and pressure. This experience had given him a vibe of a worldly wisdom. Serizawa-san was very perceptive about people and had a perfect sense of benefit. He had barely noticed Chizuru, as if she was an empty place. Somehow it was reassuring, as Chizuru had no wish to catch his attention. 

The club they were invited into was different from their previous concert grounds. It was more classy but, at the same time, more arty and quirky. Chizuru suspected it to be a nest of some refined debauchery. Hijikata-san inspected the stage, the staff rooms and the accessway and found them acceptable.

"I think Serizawa-san tests the ground in order to involve some new consumer group," Hijikata-san said on their way back. "You know, he's hard to handle and he pisses me off with his attitude, but he does the work that we fail to do." An anxious fold crossed his forehead.

"He said something about us being afraid to get our hands dirty," muttered Chizuru. She was slightly confused to see Hijikata-san doubting himself. Unlike his usual confident and energetic self, he looked spent.

"Yes, we tend to be snobbish as hell about some things and someday we may pay a price for it. Souji won't agree but Serizawa-san is our fortune in some way."  _ When you are an adult you have no choice but to interact with the world you’re given. And you inevitably change. _

"Why is Okita-san so upset about Serizawa-san?" asked Chizuru. There still were a lot of things she didn’t understand about the band’s interactions. 

"Souji tends to take some things deeply to heart," The answer was a bit vague. "And I don't know a thing he treats more seriously than our work. Sometimes I think that he’s trapped by the music. More than any other member. So he overreacts. And… Souji's such a pain in the neck sometimes." Hijikata-san sighed. "But you seem to get along well with him." A rare warm smile crossed his face.  

"I do my best," Chizuru snorted, recalling their obscure relations. 

They continued to drive in silence. She wondered what sort of relations Hijikata-san and Okita really had under all that cover of bickering and banter. 

…

Finally, the  _ Day _ came. The most common mistakes had been worked out, the setlist had been nailed. The band arrived at the club to check the sound and make preparations. Chizuru chose one of her conservative black dresses to avoid unnecessary prejudice. Kosuzu-chan was finishing her makeup when they heard a strange noise coming from the front entrance. Okita jumped up and ran to the source of sound. Everyone followed him. 

The main entrance was a mess. The public had been stopped attempting to enter the club. A dozen guys in sporty clothes blocked the entrance and paralyzed the crowd. Policemen were standing at a safe distance doing nothing. The fundamentalists (there was no doubt about their intentions) were unexpectedly regular. Nothing wild or freaky about their appearance. 

Chizuru saw Okita and two  _ Oni 404 _ guys stuck between the crowd and the fundies (how the hell did they get there?!). The rest of the pack was blocked inside. Under the sounds of quarrel ringing in her ears, her heart started racing. Chizuru was sick with fear and anxiety.  _ He's such a pain in the neck.  _ She rushed forward but Sano-san grabbed her shoulders. The club's security blocked the entrance as well. Meanwhile the  _ Oni 404  _ frontman, wearing his elegant show attire, uttered some ultimately insulting words. Okita couldn't keep his mouth shut either. The patience of the fundie protesters run short and the mess began. 

Chizuru's memory of what happened later was pretty fragmented. She remembered a number of flashes. Okita dodging the tall guy. The cops suddenly becoming active. Crowd roaring. Hijikata-san and the guys desperately trying to do something. 

When she came to her senses the whole pack was already loafing by the police department's entrance. Everyone except Okita. 

"Well, guys, that was the act of a real man!” Shinpachi-san was nervously pacing in front of the entrance, trying to joke. “He wanted to protect our right to play what we want and where we want." 

"I must note that this right is given by the constitution and they rudely violated it!" Heisuke-kun claimed, kicking an empty can in desperation.

"I just don't get it why the police did nothing to arrest the jerks," Sano-san asked, observing the building. 

Okita was somewhere inside. Earlier, while being escorted to the  _ party van _ he had his damn nonchalant smile on his face. That made Chizuru want to punch him herself. 

"Actually they were just standing. They have every right to stand in a particular place. They weren't breaking any laws - or at least none that the police were going to enforce. The fundamentalists have just provoked Souji and the  _ Onis  _ who were foolish enough to respond." That was probably the longest speech Chizuru had ever heard from Saitou-san. 

"And the public!” cried Heisuke-kun. “They were also just standing! I wonder why a huge crowd was unable to pass through the bunch of freaks!"

"Maybe something is wrong with our public if they have no balls to deter ten men," Saitou-san said, looking very gloomy. 

Chizuru desperately wanted to do something, but she felt totally helpless. Bizarre ideas were floating in her mind. To organise a demonstration. To tag the walls of the police department with some rebellious inscriptions ( _ ‘Free Okita Souji’, damn it _ ?). To hang a poster on the facade of the opposite building. To pass some food and clothes for him. He was wearing just his shirt and jeans and it was already October and he might catch cold… 

“You’d better refrain from doing reckless things, Yukimura-san,” Saitou-san said, studying her attentively. “One captured member is enough.”

“Sure, Saitou-san,” answered Chizuru. He must have sensed her desperate urge.  

Hijikata-san came out of the building. Everyone rushed to him. "What’s up?! How is he?"

"He's under arrest for public hooliganism and disobeying the policemen,” Hijikata-san answered sourly. “ _ Onis _ are the same.  _ Idiot! _ " He smashed his forehead.

"And the fuckers?"

"Same shit. They are together in the cells.” Hijikata-san lit a cigarette. “The concert is derailed! I wonder if Serizawa-san considers this a promotion opportunity as well. Damn it!"

"How long is Souji going to chill out in the cell?" Shinpachi-san asked.

"Like hell I know. They say he's arrested for a night. And tomorrow it will be decided what to do with him. I’m calling Kondou-san! It's  _ his _ burden, after all, not mine."  _ Even Hijikata-san can get tired of taking care of him.  _

"So we'd better return tomorrow. Can we pass him a jacket at least?"

"Nope. They’re so pissed off that they didn't let me talk to him,” Hijikata-san answered, his voice tired. “He’s already triggered them. I can perfectly imagine him saying something stupid. And, you know, they confiscate the phones. If he gets sick again, I won't trouble myself with his insurance and shit." 

"Let's head home,” Sano-san said. “It’s been a long day; Chizuru-chan’s pale. Aren’t you afraid to stay at the base all by yourself?” He asked her. “Maybe you should return to your parents?"

"No way!" Chizuru exclaimed. What if they released Okita and he returned to an empty house? "I'll be fine, Sano-san, thank you." She made a wry smile, although the thought of the empty mansion was terrifying.  

As the pack turned to their cars, Chizuru received a phone call from an unknown number. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Impracticaldemon for beta reading!


	9. Not human

I was going to spend the night in the cells and return to headquarters safe and sound next morning. Ha. Talk about unreasonable optimism. Join the tough luck club. I've been sitting in the cells for several hours now, exchanging furious glances with these scumbags. My contribution to their ruffled look is obvious now. Even Shinpachi-san couldn't do better.

To confirm our crime, the cops invite some random women from the street. The witnesses watch me with empty eyes. I'm not human. On the wrong side and no longer an equal citizen, even though ‘the crime’ is a mere nothing. A pair of bruises, that's it.  

Meanwhile the cells have their own hectic life. The cops bring in some shady guys who look like petty criminals or illegal migrants. Somehow they seem saner than my fundie friends.

I have a legitimate right to one phone call. The cops refuse to give me my phone so I borrow one from a random guy, while the guard is busy. The _Onis_ let me hide behind them. Chizuru’s business card forgotten in my jeans pocket does me a service now.

"Hey, Chizuru-chan..." I hate to talk to her in front of the assholes, but a police department has no place for privacy.

 _"Okita-san! Are you alright?!"_ Well, she must be terrified and I feel slightly guilty. And annoyed for feeling guilty.

"Sure! Better than anyone. It's been worse." In the orphanage. But that information's too personal for now.

 _"What can I do for you? Hijikata-san tried to get you out, but it's hard…"_ That's Chizuru for you! Able to collect herself in a moment.

"Do me a favor, tell Hijikata-san to keep all this mess a secret from Kondou-san and Tsune-san, okay?"

 _"Hmm… I'll try."_ Hijikata-san must be royally pissed so her doubt is natural.

"Good girl. Also could you please find the _Oni 404_ manager Oni—ah—Amagiri-san and fill him in?" I repeat the _Oni_ keyboardist’s whispered request. Almost slipped up and said 'Onigiri-san'. The keyboardist gratefully nods at me. Freakish show attires have no pockets for phones so the poor _Onis_ are isolated from civilization.

 _"Sure. Okita-san..."_ Chizuru hesitates and mumbles softly, so that I can barely hear her. _"Keep your head…"_ At this moment the cop roars at me and our conversation ends dramatically. The phone is confiscated too.

The police captain enters our abode and nails us with a glare. "Gentlemen, proceed with me. Your movements are restricted until a court date is arranged." He drones on, no hint of life in his eyes. Seems to be the type that relies on the regulations too much. "You are transferred to the adult detention center for the period of administrative arrest.”

Pathetic guy. He's lower than me and I could have knocked him down in one hit, but even I'm not that mad. Hijikata-san would be proud of my prudence.

So instead of performing on stage and having a dinner in the band’s company, I’m escorted to the jail. Things get funnier by the hour. The glances that _bastard-sama_ spares me can kill. He must hate me for dragging him into this shit. I give him a tender smile. Hijikata-san has surely made up a cute nickname for the _Onis’_ vocalist.

The jail is a brutal worn-out building on the edge of the Workmen district. The Slums are close, but unfortunately they are out of reach. Too bad that I didn't bring a jacket. The jail's building has slit-type ventilation which means that the air is stuffy, but cold autumn breezes blow here and there. My my, if only I didn’t get sick so easily. The _Oni 404_ are wearing their show clothes - which is probably worse.

I could easily miss Shinpachi-san's birthday on the fourth of November if the cops keep me here for long.

…

 _The freaking house feels so empty now._ Chizuru felt wasted when she finally reached home. There was Okita's food in the fridge, Okita's notes in the rehearsal basement, Okita's books in her bedroom. Chizuru made an effort to collect herself and go to sleep, but that was a tough task. The house followed its routine with endless horrible cracking, howling and whistling. She heard all kinds of uncertain step sounds and saw all kinds of erratic shadows.

The next morning Chizuru prepared snacks and a number of Okita's warm clothes. It took her an hour to get to the police department. A gloomy cop let her in to join the small queue of citizens willing to pass some goods to the prisoners. Chizuru occupied a spot behind a tall middle-aged man who was talking on his phone.

"He's an excellent lawyer, I'm perfectly sure!” The man was struggling to convince the person on the other end of the call. “Toshi-san, give him a chance at least. I don't understand a damn in this situation, you neither. Souji may catch cold here while we loiter." The last part was added worriedly.

Chizuru held her breath. She looked at the man attentively, his face being strangely familiar.

"I'll text you his number. Yeah, see you." The man hung up the phone and sighed. It seemed that Hijikata-san had told Okita's father about the incident after all.

"Em, excuse me…" Chizuru started. The man turned an astonished gaze to her. "I happened to overhear your conversation. Are you, by any chance waiting to pass something to Okita Souji?" She poured these words out to him in one breath, feeling embarrassed. "I am his… friend."

"Souji's friend! What a coincidence!" The man flashed her a bright smile. "I'm glad he made one," he added guilelessly betraying his worries, if not Okita's reticence. “Kondou Isami.” The man offered his hand to her. Chizuru introduced herself.

 _Why am I suddenly stuck in this whirlwind with Okita Souji at its core?_ she thought.

Kondou-san had the happy ability to effortlessly charm people. Warmhearted and confident, he immediately won over the two weary policemen attached to the parcel reception. They registered the parcels without hesitation.

If Chizuru had ever imagined what Okita’s father looked like, it would definitely have been another person. She could picture some harsh, sarcastic man, making a fool of everyone around him. The real Kondou-san was unexpectedly cheerful. Chizuru wondered how this man had managed to raise someone like Okita. They shared a sort of a childlike attitude about them, but that was all. Not to mention that Okita rarely showed that soft side of him.

Kondou-san insisted on driving Chizuru home. Chizuru insisted on treating him with dinner and hot tea. She was starting to get used to that _Shinsengumi_ style of doing things, which meant coping with hardships together and supporting each other. It was a strange feeling of being _involved_ . Maybe that was the cement that kept all those ridiculously different people together. _What if Kondou-san had been the main catalyst for their consolidation back then?_ Chizuru wondered. _We just met today and we’re already discussing something in our kitchen like old friends._ They didn’t talk about Okita much, but Chizuru got an overall impression that Kondou-san still treated his stepson like a green boy. _That must be a hard burden - a caring parent mistaking you for an innocent and incapable kid._

...

“Come on, wipe your tears!”

“Oh, he's unbearable, how d’ya cope with him?”

“Ur a little son of a bitch, d’ya think ur the fucking smartest one here?!”

“Give it a try, just blow and the walls will flow!”

“See, all lit up!”

“If someone asks you, you've seen nothing, okay?”

“Get your shit together, pal, he's just a sweet little boy!”

“He's like his father, a hopeless one!”

“Your child’s a fucking _hikki_ , he doesn't get along with people.”

“Don't be afraid to be strict with him!”

“Okita-kun, ur so strange…”

“Step back! Don't approach him, he's dirty…”

 _Oh fuck._ The dream was absolutely shitacious. _He's dirty_ , huh?

Heart-throbbing is annoying. Memories of home are very vivid now. Not that I’ve ever had one, but several places really deserve to be called home, mainly Kondou-san's house and the trashy brick mansion where Chizuru struggles to sleep alone now. I can picture her talking to me saying that the house is full of noises and how she's afraid to sleep. She tries to act cool and to joke, but her hectic gestures betray her anxiety. She laughs awkwardly and looks straight into my eyes. Still cannot get used to it. I've seen many times how people start to avoid me. I guess I tend to offend them and then they try to pretend that I don't exist. As if it would solve the problem, ha… solve _me_. Oh, fuck them all. She’d never done any of it, even when I was a bit of an asshole. It just made her a bit cocky too. If I finally crossed the line, Chizuru’d rather beat me up than turn away. She always stares at me with her varicolored eyes as if acknowledging my very existence… My my, this jail is screwing with my mind. If I start writing pathetic poetry like Hijikata-san kill me please.

I don't really get why she's so restless about sleeping alone in the dark. I guess I've avoided many troubles that middle-class luckies tend to face. Surrounded by wild dogs, one cannot be afraid of some humble shit. Anyway I have fun watching late-night films with her…

"You seem to frustrate our neighbours, pal," says one of the _Onis_ , the _normal_ one, breaking my musing. It’s hard to return to the current reality, but things are heating up.

We inhabit a large room with rows of bunk beds, dim lights and shabby walls. And - surprise! - we share it with our opponents. What kind of experiments do the cops conduct here? After lights out, everyone is expected to sleep, but given the circumstances, who the hell can sleep? The furious glances promise nothing good. I have no choice but to keep closer to the Onis. Once cops disappear the gang of thugs approaches me to continue our little misunderstanding. They say something, but it’s just an annoying background noise. Could be worse. The one rule that always saved if not my life then my health is to strike first and never hesitate. I don't wait for the fuckers to reach me and punch the closest. Desperately need to scare them. For the next several minutes my body moves by itself and I don't remember the details. At least, I’m not the seven-year-old beaten boy throwing up his dinner in the corner anymore.

Surprisingly, the _Onis’_ keyboardist comes to my side, but we are still outnumbered. The assholes knock me down and the chest explodes in pain. Someone hits me in the abs. The _Onis’_ vocalist finally stands up. His Highness curses and gives a mighty round kick to the thugs’ leader. The edges of the chic _kinagashi_ pull loose and the fuckers could get a pantyshot if interested. Their leader flies away (godspeed!) and crashes into the iron bars making up the door. The fighting ends immediately and the silence is deafening. The gang retreats to the opposite corner. I get up and turn to the guys.

"Thanks!" My broken lip makes it hard to smile.

"Nevermind!" The _Onis_ ’ keyboardist smiles sarcastically. "I know you, you’re Okita-kun, right? My name’s Shiranui Kyo." He offers me his hand. I already like this guy.

"Nice to meet you, Shiranui-kun." I shake his hand. His colleague snorts in irritation.

"Kazama Chikage, my vocalist." Shiranui-kun grins and points at _bastard-sama_.

"You are a walking disaster, boy." Kazama-kun glances at me without a smile, but he's not as intimidating as before. "Many versus one, how dishonest." He spits out the latter words.

We team up and occupy the corner. It's highly preferable to arrive at the trial in one piece. Everyone is too agitated to sleep, so we instantly find some common topics. When several musicians meet they never shut up about music. Kazama-kun turns out to be a cool guy. He knows the whole industrial and post-industrial scene thoroughly. Hajime-kun has missed an interesting discussion here. The fundie gang is clearly listening to our chatter. Maybe they'll see that we are just musicians and don't give a fuck about their deep and meaningful problems.

We have no choice but set a night watch. I’m used to the lack of sleep so I let the _Onis_ rest for several hours until dawn. I doubt I could sleep anyway. My scrapes hurt and the lip has already swollen.

In the morning, we’re offered meals. They don't look promising and I skip. Not the first time I’ve starved, right?

Aside from cold and hunger, boredom becomes our main problem. Jails are known for being places where a person can reconsider his miserable life. The flow of time is slow and imperceptible so we long for entertainment. We’re allowed to read books and it seems to be the only entertainment. Shiranui-kun searches through the bookshelf and we hear his cursing and snickering.

"I don't get it. Is this some sort of freaking humiliation?" He raises his head.

"What's up?"

"There's nothing but your typical women’s romance paperbacks and several reference books."

"You're kidding." The perspective of melting my mind on romance books scares me. Not that I’m much a bookworm, but still. Hijikata-san would probably find it more interesting. He only pretends to be flawless.

"Well, I'll try some. Otherwise, I gonna die from boredom." Shiranui-kun takes several books and we are escorted back to our room.

...

“Imprisonment and death are the only reasons to skip a rehearsal!” exclaimed Hijikata-san. The schedule was dense and they had to practise with or without Okita.

“We can make a banner with those golden words, Hijikata-san,” noted Chizuru with a stony face. “Would suit that rug on the wall.”

“You know, I’d just started to miss the sarcastic comments from the corner!” said Harada-san. Humorless barks of laughter followed his words.

“At first I was like ‘oh, finally some peace’, but now I’m not sure,” Shinpachi-san smirked.

“Now we have Chizuru-chan instead of Souji!” said Heisuke-kun.

“The worst compliment I’ve ever heard,” muttered Hijikata-san.

The pack was doing its best to keep morale high. Hijikata-san’s media war progressed with mixed success. The show’s cancellation and the infamous brawl had scandalized society. Some people empathised with the band, others blamed them. Chizuru’s position was ambivalent. Several acquaintances deleted her from their social media, but she didn’t care.  

The guys tried not to leave Chizuru alone, though they didn’t go so far as to guide her every step. Thus she was very surprised to hear the doorbell in the evening long after everyone had left. She checked the spy hole to see a face strangely resembling her own.

“Evening, Kaoru,” Chizuru greeted him dryly. They had never been close.

“Hello,” her cousin said nonchalantly. “Mind if I drop in?” He looked like he always did. Pale face, circles under the eyes, black trench coat, polished boots.   

“How did you know my whereabouts?” She didn’t rush to let him in.

“Be careful with the geolocation access. Like, don’t click every link you receive.” Kaoru smiled amiably.

 _Shit_ , _you creep_. Chizuru was very cautious about everything she exchanged with her cousin; however, she must have done something wrong.

“Come in,” she stepped back into the house. Kaoru entered, shooting quick glances around. He must have noticed the guys’ belongings in the hall. Chizuru didn’t miss a light frown playing on his brow. She invited him to the kitchen and started preparing tea. The pack preferred to gather in the kitchen instead of the living room. However, Kaoru could mistake it for a gesture of defiance.

“Okay, why were you so desperate about finding my place?” She took over the initiative. “You could just call and arrange a meeting.”

“Your parents are worried about you, me as well,” started Kaoru. “I was sure that something was odd about your sudden move. And you’ve never invited us to visit. Such a big house… How do you live here all alone?”

“Did my parents send you?”

“And still…”

“I have a housemate.” It was pointless to keep it a secret. “Any objections?”

“Since I don’t see anyone, it must be that ridiculous guy who’s now hitting the bed in jail,” said Kaoru slowly. “Must be a bed of nails for him… Oh, thank you,” he added, nodding when Chizuru put a steaming cup in front of him.

Chizuru didn’t answer. She was beginning to heat up, but a long-time habit of tolerating the relatives was keeping her under control.  

“Chizuru.” He looked at her intently. Chizuru shot him a gloomy look. “Your parents gave you a trouble-free childhood.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ve paid for your education, for useful skills and so on. You had a job in a reputable orchestra. They are trying to arrange an _omiai_ for you…”

“Nonsense!” snapped Chizuru losing her temper. “Ridiculous! Anyway, I hope that any proper _omiai_ candidate will run in fear because - oh shit! - I don’t work for the reputable orchestra anymore. Good luck!”

“Chizuru…” Her cousin looked pleased, she was pretty sure of it.

“No, you listen to me, Kaoru. _I_ have nothing to do with the fact that _your_ family didn’t pay for your education and so on.” _And apparently didn’t care much about you,_ she thought _._ “I won’t apologize for it. However, despite the hardships you’ve faced, you’ve always been the one to decide what to do with your"—fucking—"life."

The smile fell from his face. Chizuru continued. “I don’t know whether I’ll be able to repay my debt to my parents or not, I’ll figure it out myself. My housemate and my colleagues have nothing to do with you either. Now I suggest we change the topic.” Chizuru turned away before she said something she would regret later.

“You weren't like this before,” Kaoru muttered musingly. “I’ve never heard you swear..” A small smile curved his lips. “Doesn’t suit you.”

Chizuru chortled.

“I think I get your point," he continued. “But you’d better stop denying your background so eagerly. This new arty life can end in an instant and you’ll find yourself in the same dead end without any firm foundation under your feet. I guess there are problems already. What I want to say is...” He paused for a little bit. “Don't get too invested in it.”

“I’ll consider it.” She paid no heed to his words.

He didn’t stay long. Chizuru wondered what the purpose of his visit was. She felt a desperate urge to talk to someone, but there were no options. Sen-chan had recently invited her to go out through social media, but entrusting her with personal matters was out of question. None of her former acquaintances or colleagues would suit either.

Chizuru trudged to her room and took out a pile of paper. Let it be a letter to Okita, one he hopefully would never see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Impracticaldemon for beta reading!


	10. Carnival justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter delves further into Okita’s personal issues. Peripeteia of justice, the pack’s adventures and progressing Okita-Kazama antipathy included.

“I saw your last show and, man, it was remarkable,” Kazama-kun says with a drawl. We were sitting in the cell after ‘dinner’. “A bit rough but still… I bet the girl wrote her parts herself.” I nod my agreement. “I see. She knows when to hide herself and she knows when to shine. A perfect trait for a woman.” His face assumes a complacent expression, resembling a desirous collector contemplating an exhibition.

Kazama-kun continues to blabber about the mix of modesty and sincerity, but his words irritate me. I’ve never thought all those pompous things about Chizuru. In fact, it wasn’t that long ago when I considered her a useless distraction. It’s odd to see an outsider regarding her as a woman.

“Your producer has made the whole city discuss the _Shinsengumi_ ,” Kazama-kun says. “I wonder who’s his PR manager. Your band is a white elephant in itself, but he still manages to make something of you.” Does he have a slight trait of mockery about his tone? There seems to be disdain in his eyes, overlaid with an air of courtesy.  

“What do you mean?” He saved my ass yesterday, but what the fuck is he up to now? His droning voice is starting to get on my nerves.

“Easy, pal…” Kazama-kun smirks. “Have you seen many underground bands with” he pauses for a bit, “six members? Plus a manager. I attended college with him, by the way.” Oh man, what sort of college was that? “And it’s not that you play fucking klezmer or anything. The underground bands tend to have two or three members.”

“Yeah? That’s an apt observation. You’re not bad at counting. But it works for us.” I’m perfectly aware that we are a large band and we have a questionable financial situation, but this is Hijikata-san’s headache, not mine.

“Guys surely make it work, huh?” Shiranui-kun grins. “Your vocalist is just something.”

“Shiranui is in awe of your Harada,” snickers Kazama-kun. The fundies twitch at the sound of his laughter. A moment of startled silence passes and the buzzing from their corner breaks out again. A dangerous fold crosses Shiranui-kun’s forehead. “He was fucking ecstatic seeing Harada stab himself…” The way the prick curses here and there betrays that he was a well-bred boy until he reached his rebellious age. It’s a bit forced. God, he’s so funny.

“I like crazy people,” admits Shiranui-kun, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  

The _Onis’_ inner dynamic is strange. Kazama-kun clearly tries to boss everyone around while Shiranui-kun tries to resist and joke back. I also try to oppose Hijikata-san when he mistakes himself for Alexander the Great, but hell, this is so different. Besides, the way he goes on about _our_ little fiddler unnerves me.  

“Yukimura-san is really a treasure,” Kazama-kun continues, reflecting my thoughts. “I do wonder how you managed to convince her to join. What could you really offer her? In fact, she’s from a good family and certain circles do not approve this sort of occupation.” I like neither his words about ‘certain circles’ (I spit on whatever circles), nor his attitude towards Chizuru. Meanwhile, he adds something about her manners and a passionate fiddling style. I’m ready to forget how he knocked down the fundies’ leader yesterday. It must have been torture for Hijikata-san to study with the jerk.

“Easy, Kazama,” grins Shiranui-kun. “I'm sensing murderous intent from over here. You’re not Yukimura’s boyfriend yet.” Shiranui-kun has unexpectedly caught me off-guard. I guess I’ve become too soft lately. Too easy to read.

“Okita-kun is not her boyfriend either,” retorts Kazama-kun.

“For a person who’s only seen her once, you sure know a lot about Chizuru-chan.” I turn away from them making it clear that I’m not interested in a further discussion. I’m aware of Chizuru’s family problems, but I’ve never considered them to be that serious. Suddenly the situation is somewhat different. Chizuru is strange to all those contented bastards just because she wants to make her own choices. In some ways, she struggles more than I thought, I’ll give her that. And my sitting in jail doesn’t help her at all.

The question is what Kazama himself is trying to achieve by playing in an underground band. He’s too refined and sissy for it. Probably his own _circles_ don’t accept him.

It’s been two days since this shit began and I’m already tired of having people around. Melodies keep whirling in my head, unable to break outside. I’ll probably forget them all by the time they release me.

...

To put it mildly, Chizuru didn’t like to stay alone in the mansion. Nighttime was the worst for her, but she was adamant about staying put and waiting for Okita’s return. During the day, she was busy with her work. Even if there was no rehearsal planned, some of the pack members were always present. Saitou-san and Heisuke-kun kept her company more than anyone else.

Chizuru was in no mood to seek for leisure activities outside the base. Living in the Slums had another trait she had been previously unaware of. The majority of the inhabitants spent their free time at home. Getting to the Big City just to stroll the streets of the historical center or visit a coffee shop was out of the question. Too long, too disappointing, too dangerous at times.

To keep the band together, Hijikata-san had composed a denser schedule. Chizuru was only too pleased to be busy. She always tried to cheer everyone up to cover her own dark mood, which she believed to be completely unnoticeable. In an attempt to dig up information about Okita’s condition and the public attitude to the latest events, Chizuru spent much time surfing the net. Gradually, curiosity had led her to the fan sites.

“As far as I know, Harada-san is the most popular member, for obvious reasons,” Chizuru said, sharing her findings with the pack after rehearsal had finished. “Saitou-san is pretty popular too, he’s so enigmatic and cold-blooded.” Saitou-san frowned in his corner. Chizuru smirked. “And then there’s a small but proud squad of Okita-san’s fangirls…”

“They must be masochists!” said Heisuke-kun, much to Chizuru’s embarrassment. “No one treats the fans worse than Souji.”

“What’s so bad about him?” asked Chizuru. It wasn’t clear for her whether it was a rhetorical question.

“Nothing,” answered Heisuke-kun, packing his bass. “He just ignores them most of the time. Don’t know how he managed it with Sannan-san back then when there were only two of them.”

“They had a specific image, pal,” said Sano-san. “ _Goth's undead_ and so on. Honestly, I had no idea that there are ratings of our personal popularity. I’ve never dug that deep into the fandom. We’ve always been busy with something else.”

“That’s not the end of it!” Chizuru raised an index finger. Everyone turned their faces to her. “Sano-san is lucky, cause he’s just Sano-san. But there are also Haji-kun and Sou-chan. Sorry, Saitou-san!”

The pack broke into laughter.  

“Sou-chan never visits fan pages,” said Saitou-san, slightly red. “He has good reasons.”

“Well, if we go on like this, my own reputation will hit rock bottom.” Chizuru smiled sourly. She had discovered that fangirls didn’t like her much. The popular opinion considered her the reason for the band’s current problems. It was more than unfair, but Chizuru couldn’t chase windmills. Her appearance and her possible relations with the band members had become a topic for discussion. Somehow her co-living with Okita was still undisclosed. At least, it would be until someone encountered them in the Slums' Market. The whereabouts of the headquarters were not a secret, but nobody had bothered them since audition day. Chizuru praised Hijikata-san’s wish to stick the band deep into the Slums where no civilized soul would wander around.

“You’ll find good company there.” Shinpachi-san winked to her. “Me and the kid are not that popular either.” He placed a hand on Heisuke-kun’s shoulder. Shinpachi-san liked to joke about him remaining single and Sano-san getting the ladies. However, the whole Underground knew Shinpachi-san and, apparently, he was not deprived of female attention.

The band collected their belongings and proceeded to the kitchen. Earlier that day Chizuru had teamed up with Saitou-san to prepare a mountain of food for everyone. It was completely new to her to find pleasure in showing hospitality. She was grateful to Saitou-san, who had clearly tried to overcome his reticence in order to keep her company. It started the day after Okita had been gone. That morning Saitou-san found Chizuru sitting over a cup of cold coffee, her thoughts going in circles. She prepared coffee again and for the first very long hour they were just sitting in silence, exchanging rare words. Chizuru didn’t know how to handle Okita’s best friend, she was no less shy than Saitou-san himself. Gradually they found an obvious common topic and spent several hours discussing the forthcoming album. Saitou-san explained Hijikata-san’s latest concept - something that Okita had avoided doing - and filled her in.

“...It’s a difficult decision and I want to hear your opinion.” Chizuru’s memories were interrupted by Hijikata-san’s strict voice. She blinked and stared at him.

“Chizuru-chan, no time to sleep!” he exclaimed. Chizuru mumbled an apology.

It turned out that a local TV channel had invited the band to the primetime talkshow. It was a chance to make an official announcement about their viewpoint as well as Okita’s condition. Hijikata-san was adamant that Okita needed their support, but he refused to reveal the details.

“If we agree to take part in this fucking circus, we’ll make fools of ourselves. You can imagine what it would be like: whining fundies, officials, irate citizens everywhere.” The pack agreed. Hijikata-san continued. “If we refuse, we may lose the chance to make Souji’s life a bit easier. We have enough traffic on the main sources, but it’s still incomparable to TV. Local news keeps going about youth corruption all the time.”  

“We don’t have to go in full pack, do we?” Chizuru asked. She was ready to be the focus of public attention, for Okita's sake, but the prospect was unpleasant nonetheless.

“Two or three members are enough. It’s not an easy choice either. Heisuke and Sano are too sensitive for it, Shinpachi may be hard to control if someone messes with us, Chizuru-chan’s position is too vulnerable, Saitou is too taciturn and me…”

“You may just kill them all in the studio, Hijikata-san,” noted Shinpachi-san.

“It’s called short-tempered,” Sano-san suggested.

Hijikata-san smirked. “Souji would be no good either, if he participated,” he added.

He’s too Souji for it, thought Chizuru.

“We can cast lots,” Heisuke-kun said hopelessly. “I mean… it’s that bad already. Who cares if they mess with us?”

“Kiddo’s right,” agreed Shinpachi-san.

Heisuke-kun glared at him but said nothing. He was somewhat lost and discouraged since the incident. His father was a big shot who was clearly displeased to see his family name in tabloids.  

“Hijikata-san should definitely participate.” Saitou-san raised his voice. Everyone quieted down. “Since he is both a leader and a person responsible for the whole concept. Sano may join him. He is the most recognizable of us. He can just smile at the public. No need to involve more people.” On second thought, the decision was quite obvious.

Sano-san adopted a sour smirk. He liked communicating with people, but playing an ever-smiling looker could be tiresome sometimes.

“Alright, it’s decided then,” said Hijikata-san, getting his cigarettes out of his pocket. “Looks like a fucking trap, but…” He paused. “I hope that bastard deserves it.” Hesitant smiles appeared on the members’ faces. “I’m not tolerating any of his stupid pranks once he comes back!” He lit a cigarette.    

“Hijikata-san! Don’t smoke in the kitchen!”

...

Day four. I’m used to the lack of sleep, but Kazama-kun hardly endures it. What a wimp. We regularly set the night watch because no one wants to be caught off guard. The fundies have learned their lesson, but I won’t feel safe until I return back to the headquarters. Suddenly, the court hearing is tomorrow and I’ll mostly likely get penalized for public hooliganism and blah-blah-blah. Like I care.

I hardly eat anything. I need a shower. The old dirty blanket is the only thing that keeps me from coming down with a cold. I never take it off.

The jail resembles the quarantine room of the orphanage. Other kids always received deliveries from their sidekicks, pushed through the crack under the door. Little Soujirou was devoid of such things. I was there all alone, ever-hungry and my only fun was to tap rhythmic patterns on every surface available until someone yelled at me from the outside. Now there are three of us to tap the surfaces. We organise a temporary jail band and jam for hours to everyone’s satisfaction and joy. Suck it up. Shiranui-kun and me are beatmakers, while Kazama-kun practises throat singing. The whole thing resembles tribal hymns and no cop dares to stop us. We are professionals after all, aren’t we?  

Our other entertainment is reading. It all started when Shiranui-kun fetched those damn paperbacks. I couldn’t bear his constant snickering anymore so I proposed to read it aloud. Kazama-kun is actually perfect in imitating passionate intonations of male characters. I’m not bad too. My empty stomach hurts from laughing. The broken lip doesn't bother me anymore. We often hear suppressed laughter from the opposite corner.

There’s no connection to the outside and it could be fun in other circumstances. I have no idea what the others are doing or whether they will be aware of my release. The prospect of returning to the headquarters on foot is not exciting. I don’t really hope that Hijikata-san will bother himself with my transfer after all this shit.

 _These walls have eyes, these vaults have ears._ It’s very hard to fall asleep here as the atmosphere is too nerve-wracking. During my sleeping time various crap circulates in my mind. Every issue has a double meaning, every house has a backdoor, every face wears a mask…

…

Hijikata-san had cursed everything related to the goddamn talk show. The TV tower was located on the left bank of the river, which was a bad omen in itself. That part of the city consisted of vast industrial zones, the poorest residential districts, underutilized lands and dumpsites. Driving by Okita’s former orphanage, Hijikata-san frowned. Fifteen years had passed, but the old building hadn’t changed a fraction. Ancient poplars in the yard were the same too. Sano-san was silent on his seat - the view seemed to suppress him as well.

Hijikata-san suspected that the band was invited to play the bogey and willingly fell into the trap. But earlier, Yamazaki had reported about Okita being kept together with the fundies so there was no choice left.

The experts’ pool of the talk show included several churchmen, local functionaries, video bloggers, fortune tellers and other freaks. Not a single lawyer or a fellow musician. Members of the Yukimura family were present as well. Every time Hijikata-san was allowed a word he was constantly interrupted for the sake of lively debate. Sano-san’s smile had withered within the first ten minutes of the show and then he had just stared at the public in disbelief.

After the pack had been accused of involving a young Conservatory graduate in their questionable affairs, Hijikata-san ran out of patience. He grabbed a microphone from the hands of the nearby speaker, went to the center of the studio and barked that their concert never had been intended to insult any social groups; that their member was being kept in one cell together with the a gang of unstable citizens; that his life and health were in danger; that the trial date was still not set; and finally, that journalists were keeping a close eye on the authorities' actions. Finished with his speech, Hijikata-san nodded to Sano-san and they left the studio.

…

During the night the puddles had frozen, so that in the morning they were covered with ice. The first snow had already covered the dull jail yard. The trial was boring. Souji was surprised to find a small support crew in the room. Kondou-san arrived with a cutesy stranger who was introduced as his lawyer. Hajime was sitting at Kondou-san’s left. There were several fangirls of both bands and a bunch of fundie-like men. Kondou-san was his usual caring and cheerful self. His smile fell when he saw Souji’s bruised face. Sometimes Souji wished that for once his stepfather would lose his temper and scold him, but that had never happened. Instead, he could easily picture Hijikata-san yelling at him, Chizuru treating him with undeserved care, Hajime actively disapproving and the _trio_ mocking him. He had probably earned a bit of yelling.

Hajime gave him a short bow, studying his face attentively; Souji winked in return. A sudden smile, which was completely out of place, broke his lips. That would probably entertain the photographers. An asocial hooligan has the guts to smile like an idiot during his trial.

The freshly hired lawyer tried to do his job. His defence requests didn’t make much sense and were dismissed. The court imposed a penalty and on the second of November Souji was finally free. Fresh air made him feel dizzy. Souji felt a strange lightness about him. The street was the same - dull and dirty - but somehow it seemed different.

Kondou-san threw his warm _haori_ on Souji and proposed to drive him to the base. Hajime promised to drop by tomorrow and went to his motorbike, hiding a smile. Souji got into the car. He was too drained to protest. They would have enough time to talk later. Itou occupied the front seat. Souji surrendered to his thoughts in the back.

Kondou-san seemed to place high expectations on Itou, but Souji was clearly unimpressed by his performance. All done up and eloquent, Itou resembled a host more than a lawyer. It wasn’t the first time his stepfather had been charmed by an odd person. Back then, Hijikata-san had turned out to read the same books and share the same beliefs as Kondou-san. _Toshi-san is so smart, Toshi-san is great, I’m so proud of being his friend…_ The only thing left was to watch them from a distance and let the loneliness blight him again. He wanted to join but he didn’t know how to. Souji liked neither Kondou-san’s favorite military novels, nor boring political talks. Now, a strong prejudice towards Itou filled him.  

“Chizuru-chan must be preparing something for your return. She’s such a nice girl!” Kondou-san’s cheerful  voice broke into his brooding. He winked to Souji through the rear-view mirror. _That matrimonial quirk of his..._

“Eh? Do you know Chizuru-chan, Kondou-san?” Souji’s tension subsided a bit when he remembered about the girl.

“I met her while we were sending parcels to you the other day. There were some of Otsune’s specials, just as you like,” answered Kondou-san.

“I bet the cops enjoyed Tsune-san’s cooking,” Okita answered spitefully. That was new information for him. He had to tell Kondou-san that he never received any of those parcels.

They arrived at the headquarters in no time. The old house was the same except for the hoarfrost, covering the grass. Kondou-san refused to stay and promised to visit tomorrow because Souji needed rest. They exchanged goodbyes and Souji quietly entered the hall.

The sounds of music reached his ears. Chizuru was busy cutting herbs to the accompaniment of some modern violin stuff. The kitchen was filled with steam and scents of food. His dizziness returned. The melody wound sinuously and then exploded with random strings. Souji froze at the kitchen entrance holding his chin. To hear a line of balanced sounds - that was probably a better welcome than he could imagine. Then their eyes met. They stood still for several seconds, he with a small queer smile, she with a blush, spreading slowly across her cheeks.

...

 _Souji,_ Chizuru thought approaching him. "Okita-san... I've cooked some food and cleaned the bathroom so you can even take a bath and…" Chizuru stopped in confusion, taking a closer look of his appearance, her eyes slowly widening. Okita had slimmed down even more, his dirty hair was a mess and the broken lip was still a bit swollen. The knuckles of his fingers were scraped. Reddish stubble covered his jaw. Chizuru’s eyes stung, but she swallowed hard and did her best not to cry in front of him.

"That’s so sweet of you, Chizuru-chan,” Okita muttered with the same queer smile. “But you’d better stop fussing over me. See," he touched her shoulder with index and middle fingers, "I'm not going to disappear."

"Indeed…" Chizuru lowered her eyes. “Welcome home.” A wide uncontrollable smile appeared on her face. She tried not to make it sound pathetic. It was not about his imprisonment, which was not a big deal after all. It was just something strange hanging in the air between them. Winding sinuously like that melody.

"I’m home, right…” Okita smirked. “Well, I'll take a bath, thank you. I can't be dirtier than this old shell." He went out of the kitchen. Chizuru returned to her cooking. Soon afterwards she heard him calling for her and rushed to his bathroom. She popped her head into the steamy chamber, covering her eyes with a hand.

“Don’t tell me you missed me _that_ much.”

"Chizuru-chan, my back." She heard his cunning voice.

"Can't you reach it yourself?"

"Nope."

"Make sure that I see nothing unnecessary then." He only chortled in response and she entered the room.

Okita was sitting in a steamy bathtub, his legs drawn up to his body and torso hunched over them embracing them with his arms. His chin rested on his knees. Chizuru slowly approached him and stopped, terrified by the view of his back and spine. He was always tall and slim but he had returned even more skinny than before. The vertebrae were sticking out on his back, covered with yellow bruises and dry scrapes.

"It must hurt in hot water," she mumbled.

"It does, but I need to wash anyway," he answered in a dull voice. "Could you rub my back, please? It sucks to smell jail."  

Chizuru whipped up a bit of a soap foam and began to spread it over his back with gentle moves. Okita shivered beneath her touch. The wet tips of his hair brushed her hand.

"Sorry, did I hurt you? I'm trying to avoid the scrapes."

"There's a sponge for it, you know.” He frowned grumpily. “Thank you, I'll manage it from now on."

"As you wish." Chizuru tried not to give in to his rapid mood swings.

...

“So… how was it?” Okita returned to the kitchen, dressed in his fresh clothes. Wet hair was hanging down his shoulders and the stubble was gone. He occupied his usual place by the table.

Chizuru paused, unsure where to start. “I’ve been listening to _Saltillo_ a lot,” she blurted. “The song _Proxy_ made my week.” It was some way to sum up the mood of the recent days.

“Hmm… I get the sentiment,” he said, a wry smile touching the healthy corner of his lips. “So it was rough. I also had some music on my playlist.” She turned an astonished glance on him. “But I’ve completely forgotten it by now. If melodies are not written down, they fade.” _Without movement they fall into the darkness._

“I wish I could have listened to them,” said Chizuru.

Okita nodded his agreement. “You made all this for me,” he muttered, examining the table. He was unexpectedly quiet that evening.

“I had some free time today,” answered Chizuru, looking into his eyes. _Just you dare to refuse it._

“Oh.” A faint smile crossed his face. “Thank you.” It was unusual for him to let her take care of him without protesting. “You know, I could get used to relying on you.”  

Chizuru smiled. She had just finished preparing fresh tea, when the front door’s lock clicked. Only band members had keys for it. Assuming Kaoru didn’t find a way to make a copy. They turned their heads to the door to encounter a very pale and gravely serious Hijikata-san. He seemed to have come as soon as his usual work finished.  

 _“Soujirou,”_ he uttered slowly, arms crossed against his chest.

“Ah, Hijikata-san, perfect timing! Wanna eat with us?” Hijikata-san didn’t answer. He continued staring at Okita.  

“Right, Hijikata-san, take a seat! We’ve just started.” Chizuru jumped up to take a clean plate. She didn’t want to listen to Hijikata-san lecturing Okita on his behavior.

“Thank you, Chizuru-chan.” Hijikata-san softened a bit and sat down.

 _Damn right, thank you, Chizuru._ Okita didn’t miss his chance to strike first.

“You know, Hijikata-san,” he started, pouring a cup of tea for the guest, “I have a message from our opponents. It’s sorta non-verbal, so we should decode it right.”

“What are you talking about?” Hijikata-san asked suspiciously.

“It’s beaten into my back, my face and so on. Well, and I feel like I caught a cold there. That could also be a part of the message. A _post scriptum_ of sorts. I don’t complain, of course, but they were very specific.”  

“Didn’t you receive the warm clothes and snacks we sent you?” Chizuru was surprised.

Okita laughed. “I guess I’ll have to renew my wardrobe after this shit. We’ll never see those clothes again.” He didn’t give a damn about his belongings.

“So, the cops were rough with you,” Hijikata-san noted bitterly. He clenched his hand with chopsticks into a fist.

“Fundie brats placed in the same cell with me were not all roses either. I was lucky to have the _Oni 404_ members with me. Actually, the fact that I dragged them into this shit did me a service.”

“I don’t think it’s about the cops at all,” Hijikata-san said thoughtfully. “Fundies must be affiliated with high places. I’m currently working on it. And you are right: it’s definitely some sort of a damn message for us.”

“Fuck off, don’t mess around, disappear and die?” Chizuru proposed angrily. Surprised, Okita looked at her. She snorted in irritation. Great, another person who seemed to think that cursing didn't suit her.

“Sort of. I’ve started a media campaign to protect us. More hype we get, safer we are. We need to state our position clearly and give a hint that it’s just a part of a larger game. Souji was a fool to let them provoke him so easily. Don’t smile like that!” Hijikata-san barked at Okita. “And then they came up with a fresh idea to scare us a bit! You should go to the doctor.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 _He seems to feel guilty about what happened to Okita,_ thought Chizuru. _But the only alternative would be to curtail all activities._

“Sure,” Okita said nonchalantly.

“I tried to track the rumors. Yamazaki-kun provides me with some inside stuff you don’t see on the net. He talked to a pair of drunk police officers on the Bar Mile. They told him that you were being kept together with the fundies. That’s why I decided to take part in that freaking TV show.” Chizuru’s jaw dropped at the news about Yamazaki’s adventures.

“A very helpful dude, huh?” said Okita. “Did you save his life? He practically worships the ground you walk on.”

“He owes me,” muttered Hijikata-san.

“Oh, how modest of you.”

“I thought that if we revealed the conditions of your imprisonment, it would smooth things over. So we took part in a primetime goddamn fucking talk show which was a total mess.”

Okita snorted. Now the suddenness of his trial made sense.

“But how did Yamazaki-san manage to figure it out?” asked Chizuru. “I mean, the cops were drunk, but he’s an unknown guy…”

“I’ll tell you that: Yamazaki has a good reason to shave off his brows,” said Okita with a smirk. Chizuru wanted to ask more, but he changed the subject. “By the way, was _bastard-sama_ really your college mate?” Okita turned to Hijikata-san.

“Yeah. I bet he told tales about me.”

“Not at all. He was more interested in Chizuru-chan. And our management problems.”

“Why me? I don’t even know him.” Chizuru was clearly unimpressed. Okita smiled.

…

Hijikata-san is a nag. I expected him to yell at me, but he just wants to know every single detail. I try to smooth things over in order not to bother Chizuru. She’d almost cried when she saw me this evening. Man, I did look terrible. Thankfully, she restrained herself. I have no idea how to comfort crying girls.

Now that I sit safely in the headquarters, I doubt my decision to give Kazama-kun Chizuru’s business card. A damn orphanage habit of mine that I still can’t get rid of. He did me a favor - I must return it. Revenge and mutual exchange were the main laws back then. I would hate to feel indebted, especially to that prick. He seemed overly interested in the girl and he treated me with that strange air of expectancy… Gahh. I shouldn’t bother myself over it any more.  

Hijikata-san says that Itou-the-lawyer is Kondou-san’s brand new obsession. That’s so like Kondou-san: he must have seen something in that Itou guy and now I’ll have to endure one more odd person.

While I struggle to betray as few jail details as possible, my phone rings. Couldn’t be better.

“You must have heard about my release, Kei-kun?” He surely has a good reason to call me. “Evening.” Hijikata-san hears the name and his face falls.

 _“Always a pleasure. But you are not quite right,”_ Kei-kun answers. I hear the smile in his voice. _“Souji-kun, do you know about the Water of Life?”_

…

“What did he want?” asked Hijikata-san, looking rather displeased.

“You know, Kei-kun’s whereabouts are a bit… shady.” Okita began in a roundabout way. “He spends a lot of time on the left bank of the river and in the Gypsy quarters. Rumors have been circulating about the new synthetic drug, _The Water of Life.”_

“Kind of an ironic name for the drug,” grumbled Hijikata-san.

“Indeed. He advises us to double caution. It seems that our fundie friends have access to this fashionable muck.”

Hijikata-san buried his face in his hands and cursed.

“Sober fundies were no fun at all. Imagine what would happen with drugged ones -  the possibilities are endless,” said Okita, smiling.

Hijikata-san sighed.    

“God, that’s all we need!” exclaimed Chizuru. “And who’s Kei-kun by the way?”

“You’ve seen him before,” answered Hijikata-san. “Sannan Keisuke, a former partner of Souji’s. He’s nine years older than Souji, but they were _that_ close.”

“I was very young and independent so I constantly called him by his first name,” said Okita, grinning. “Much to his annoyance, of course. He was a bit too prudish back then and I enjoy taking people down a peg.” He glanced at Hijikata-san.   

“Way to go,” Chizuru said sarcastically. She was absolutely sure that working together doesn’t make people friends and several orchestral years were solid proof. But members of small underground bands usually develop closer bonds. There was something odd about the coldness with which Okita spoke of his former bandmate. Hijikata-san was not delighted to hear about Sannan-san either.

About ten o’clock, Hijikata-san remembered that the prisoner needed to rest and left. Chizuru and Okita started to wash dishes and clean the kitchen. The mundane chore was comforting. They worked in silence, swift and smooth like two parts of a fine engine. Finished, Okita stretched his hand to turn off the lights when Chizuru finally gathered her courage.

“Okita-san, it…” she paused for a bit. Lecturing him was the last thing Chizuru wanted to do, but she couldn’t stay silent as well.

“Are you going to tell me that I’m a shameless rascal to bring these troubles upon all of us?” Okita asked in a flippant voice. A sly smile cracked his lips.

“Nope, but you _were_ reckless.”

“I’m disappointed, Chizuru-chan.” He bent down to her with a provoking smile.

“Fine then. I’ll give you a piece of my mind.” Chizuru started to lose her temper. “You are injured and you could have gotten hurt much worse if there had been no _Onis_ to have your back! Who knows how long you would have been kept in jail if Yamazaki-san hadn’t overheard some cops, and Hijikata-san and Sano-san hadn’t gone through that humiliation on TV! That's relying on an awful lot of luck with your health at stake, don't you think?”

“Much better!” said Okita, unabashed. Chizuru felt an urge to shake him. “But now they will think twice before approaching us - some people know no other language but violence.”

“Nonsense! They have connections, media and followers and now they even have drugs. Oh god!” She turned away from him.  

“It was my choice to get hurt. You shouldn’t worry about me, Chizuru-chan.” Okita ended up falling into his own trap. Explaining his behavior to anyone was not really his thing and the new feeling was annoying. His playful mood was gone.

“Yeah, never pass up a new experience to enrich your mind,” Chizuru grumbled bitterly. “And what’s the problem with worrying about you…” she added quietly, calming down.

Okita felt his cheeks heat up. Perhaps Kondou-san chose a comfortable way to just ignore his stepchild’s extremes, as he had never scolded him. And Hijikata-san was not so selfless as to watch over a full-grown man. The only one who was there to tell him off was the girl.

When Chizuru was about to apologize for her straightforwardness, he suddenly asked, “Were you afraid to stay here alone?”

She paused for a bit and then answered. “Yeah.”

“I see.” Okita turned off the kitchen lights and lit a lantern in his smartphone. He tugged Chizuru’s sleeve and they went to the second floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my wonderful beta reader - Impracticaldemon.


	11. The Spider and the Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like a hectic interlude between big events. Includes one of the rudest Okita’s pranks (alas, one of my favorite ones), further development of certain relationships, and some Oni, interrupting things…

Chizuru’s sensitive morning sleep was disturbed by the sound of the main door opening and the staircase cracking under someone’s feet. She jumped up and hurried to wrap herself in a bathrobe.  

Hijikata-san was standing in front of Okita’s door, sipping coffee from a paper cup.

“Morning, Chizuru-chan. You can stay in bed. I’ve come to get _him_.”

“Morning… But he must be sleeping. You know… he’s tire-ed.” mumbled Chizuru, suppressing a yawn.

Hijikata-san twisted his lips into a wry smile. “Souji had enough time to rest in jail.” That simple thesis seemed to have become Hijikata-san’s new guideline. He opened the door of Okita’s room.

Chizuru peeked into the room over his shoulder. Of course, Okita was sleeping, his bare, bruised back turned to the visitors. She could hear his steady breath. Cold didn’t seem to bother him. The girl frowned when Hijikata-san knocked at the door frame. Okita twitched and slowly sat up in bed. He shot an annoyed glare at Hijikata-san. Chizuru turned back to the hallway.

“G’morning, Hijikata-san, I’m so-o glad to see you out of all of humanity,” mumbled Okita in a low voice, still half-asleep.

“Morning?!” exclaimed Hijikata-san. “Barely. I won’t have time to fill you in later, so get up and go to the basement. Time to work.”

“Aye, sir!” said Okita, raising his right hand to his brow in a derisive salute. “Gimme ten minutes.” Surprisingly, he didn’t argue.

‘Damn workaholics’, thought Chizuru.

Ten minutes later, Okita went down to the first floor, washed up and running his hand through still-disheveled hair. He ignored breakfast and obediently followed Hijikata-san to the basement to discuss current work issues.

Chizuru heard his sarcastic remark, following Hijikata-san’s grumbling. She got dressed, feeling herself dangerously close to the deadliest secret of the _Shinsengumi_. Meaning, how on earth they all managed to work together. Especially those two, considering their roles in the creative process. Chizuru’s curiosity won over her better judgment and she went to the basement.

…

“ _Souji!_ ”

“I kept quiet!”

“Tch. I can hear you thinking. This new approach should work.”

There they were, at each other's throats again.

“Have you ever thought that you should care just a bit less about approaches and rules and tactics?”

“And you could use some discipline.”

The sound of giggling made them turn their heads towards the entrance. Chizuru saw their vexed faces and doubled over in laughter. Her laughter seemed to be contagious, as Okita smirked and the corner of Hijikata-san’s lip rose.

“Hey! We are trying to work here!” said Hijikata-san.

“I see how you work,” Chizuru said breathlessly. “I wonder how you managed to release the whole album with this approach.”

“Well, Hajime is usually here, but he’s busy right now,” explained Hijikata-san.

So that was _the secret_ , thought Chizuru. If it hadn’t been for Saitou-san to keep them at bay, the work would have been paralyzed.

“Wanna join us, Chizuru-chan?” Okita smiled at her. “We are pleasantly wasting time here.” He was sitting at his synth and Chizuru noticed that his damaged fingers were trembling slightly over the keys.

“With pleasure,” answered Chizuru. The fingers were long and agile. Chizuru suddenly thought of a pair of tricky white ferrets.

Hijikata-san explained that he had used to bring a number of lyrics to Okita and Saitou-san so they could choose which texts were suitable for writing music. That was where Saitou-san’s ability to mediate came in handy. But given the nature of the new album, Hijikata-san came to think that writing music before lyrics would be more effective in order to set the mood. “Lyrics after music” was their usual way to work with Sano-san, because Okita was more flexible and cooperative with him.

Since the new album was expected to have an overall concept it was decided to change the approach and elaborate the musical drafts first. Okita was currently balking at Hijikata-san’s idea because it meant more interaction between him and the person he persisted in disliking.

Thus, their writing and composing department was a very fragile structure. Partially, it worked because of Hijikata-san’s iron will. The other parts were Saitou-san’s diplomacy and Sano-san’s modesty. Nobody doubted Hijikata-san’s leadership except Okita. As the latter didn’t go so far as to bother himself with responsibility, so Hijikata-san’s position was uncontested.  

...

“I have an idea!” said Hijikata-san when they finished finished struggling with drafts, sadly unproductive.

‘Energetic, as always’, thought Chizuru. ‘What now’, thought Okita.

“Yeah?” she answered hesitantly.

“We’ve nearly lost the battle on TV, but the war has just started. Your positive image should be maintained.”

“I’d say it should be constructed, for a start.” Chizuru grinned. She heard Okita smirking behind her back.

“Whatever! I want you to give a thorough interview to our reputable ally. No personal life and dirty laundry, just your work. Thinking of which, do you know any alternative fiddlers of your skills and background in our city?”

“At most, they play dull covers of metal classics. Stuff like that.” Chizuru started to get the idea.

“Indeed, Chizuru-chan is not your common case,” agreed Okita. Chizuru flushed at the sound of his rare (alas!) praise. “That fact has already drawn us some unwanted attention. But I see no reason to back off: idiots must be educated.”

“Why won’t you get a degree then?” snickered Hijikata-san. Okita pouted. It was a when-pigs-fly event when Hijikata-san managed to shut him up. “I want a completely professional talk. You’ll tell about your ghost harmonics and other stuff.”

“And who’s our reputable ally?” asked Chizuru.

“Sannan Keisuke,” Hijikata-san answered.

“Why him?” moaned Okita. He immediately forgot about being offended. “We must have someone guard Chizuru-chan.”

Things were getting pretty interesting. They all fussed over that person too much to leave Chizuru indifferent.

“Why not join her then? You’ll make up some crap about our new sound.” Hijikata-san was glowing with enthusiasm.

“Hajime-kun is better with words than me.”

“You are perfect with words when you want to be,” mumbled Hijikata-san, making notes in his tablet. “We also need a photographer. A youtube stream. And a couple of viral-type announcements in social media.”

“You wanna hire Ibuki again?” Okita asked with displeasure.

“You may dislike him as much as you want, but you can’t deny he has a good eye. Just like Sannan-san has a talent for staying on top of trends. Don’t be a kid. I may not like everything about you either, but we work together nonetheless.”

“Same here,” muttered Okita. Success of their common case had a higher priority for him than one or two (or more) personal dislikes.

“Alright, I’ll set the date then.” Hijikata-san offered them a contented smile.

…

I hadn’t seen this coming. My involuntary vacation probably gave me a bit of perspective. When Hijikata-san struggles to find something in his paper hell, Chizuru somehow knows where to look. When Heisuke feels down (something he does pretty often these days), she tells him some stupid joke or gives him some simple praise. The boy smiles. She’s on good terms with Sano-san, which is the least surprising, since it’s difficult to be on bad terms with Sano-san. She exchanges music with Shinpachi-san - the girl made him curious about her industrial stuff. The oddest thing is that Chizuru has found her way with Hajime. She has no idea that she's probably the third girl he's ever been able to speak to freely, in addition to his sister Katsu and his ex.

“What about you, Souji?” Heisuke waves a hand in front of my face.

Damn. When did I become so unaware?

“Hmm?”

“We’re ordering Chinese now. You want something?”

I have some of yesterday’s leftovers stored in the fridge, so I refuse.

Indeed, what about me?

I remember her sitting quietly in the corner, observing us as if we were a bunch of amusing animals in the zoo. Little savage, heh. Sometimes she was clearly bothered by what she was seeing. Said nothing, of course, but she’s really bad at covering her emotions - something I’ve mastered through years of practice. I noticed her frowning over the places we’d visited or people we’d met. She seemed to be just another snob from Marketplace. When did she become everyone’s friend I wonder? Now she’s laughing about something with Shinpachi-san. So fervently, as if it’s her last chance to laugh. Now that she lives on her own, she somehow rushes to live: to laugh, to marvel, to work. Who’d have thought that breaking up with one’s family could be such a relief?

“What are you smiling about, Souji?” Heisuke stares at me suspiciously. I must have trained them all well if they are so alarmed to see me smile.

“Can’t you just mind your own business, please? Thank you!”

He pouts and turns away. Well done, Souji, another soul is violated. Heisuke acts strangely today. He doesn’t fight Shinpachi-san and often gets zoned out.

Everyone has come to see me today and now they are ordering food. Someone will have to drive to the Crossroad to meet the courier. I could use a break.

An hour later I find myself driving between the potholes and washouts on the roadway. I insisted on going alone. Just me and my thoughts... I bet Chizuru expected to have a fresh start. But now the whole city seems to loathe her for no particular reason. In other circumstances, I would have gloated about it. Serizawa-san gets what he deserves. He wants to mess with us - he receives this batshit crazy show. And the girl… it’s her fault for inserting herself into situations she knows nothing about. However, this logic just doesn’t work for me anymore.

…

November was nasty. And if the Marketplace inhabitants preferred to move by car, the Slums’ folk were doomed. The district became a total mess. Chizuru had acquired rubber boots to spend the evening measuring puddles with Okita, before they froze completely. Local kids were happy to see Okita back. Chizuru envied them a bit because she couldn’t bring herself to call him _Souji_.

“You get too amused about the world,” Okita observed thoughtfully, helping Chizuru to get out of the puddle. “You’re so alien.” He added with a sly grin.

“Whoever gets to that fence first is free from dishwashing today!” Chizuru dodged his teasing and pointed at the hedge on the opposite side of the large puddle. Night was beginning to fall. When Okita hurried there with enviable speed, she started cracking up and followed him. It was something vitally important about fooling around together that she couldn’t put into words.

They ended up slipping in the cold water at the finish line and had to hurry home.

Dealing with the upcoming winter couldn’t be postponed any longer. On the fourth of November, early in the morning, Okita had finally adjusted the heating by starting up the boiler in the basement. Chizuru had been freezing the whole previous week and now she could finally move about the house without a sweater.

The girl was gradually getting used to living in the motley underside of the city. Do-it-yourself architecture, broken roads, vegetable gardens (now covered with snow). That evening Chizuru also discovered the smoky insides of the old red-brick basements turned into bars.

She found herself sitting in the so-called non-smoking area of yet another establishment where Shinpachi-san had decided to celebrate his birthday. During the night, the temperature had dropped below zero again and Chizuru was glad that the stuffy basement was warm. Shinpachi-san had gone off, greeting his numerous friends. Just by looking on his shining face, her lips involuntarily tugged into a smile. There were several familiar people drifting in the background, including _Toyotomi_ , but all in all Chizuru felt a bit lost. She had just started to understand the extent of her social isolation. Her nervous fingers were tapping the edges of her teacup.

Saitou-san was sitting on her left, peacefully sipping his whiskey. He didn’t interrupt her thoughts, but his presence was reassuring in itself. Okita had moved away to greet someone. Chizuru spotted him near the bar counter, surrounded by a couple of laughing and smoking women. His lips were pulled into a smirk, which she knew very well. It was always served with a cold gaze. Back then that dry smirk had been a source of her prejudice towards him. His indifference was annoying. Okita seemed to treat everything with perfectly measured neglect, seasoned with mockery. By now Chizuru had learned that he was very skilled at constructing his façade. The smirk had nothing to do with the small and almost shy smile he had given her on the evening of his return. That smile was now saved carefully in her memories.

Her train of thought was interrupted by voices from behind her.

“What did the cops forget here? They didn’t even bother to change out of uniform.”

“Probably sniffing around the Underground. Have you heard about the Water of life? My buddy from the IT department...” Chizuru tensed. Shinpachi-san hadn’t booked the entire bar, so occasional visitors continued to come in. Most often, they looked around, noting jamming musicians on stage, tipsy punks and the raving _Shinsengumi_ Trio and left, mumbling “Those asians…” Several daredevils, however, had stayed, including a couple of cops.

“And there’s a cute girl near them!” Wheezing whisper from behind added.

Chizuru looked at the bar counter and indeed, a nice girl was sitting beside the cops, gracefully sipping her drink. She was totally indifferent to both roaring music and flashing lights. The cops were throwing more than curious looks at her. Long shiny black hair half-hid the girl’s pale face. Her clothes had obviously been picked with care, every item of the multilayered outfit matching the others. _Matchy-matchy_ , Chizuru noted mechanically.

Okita appeared out of the smoky darkness and fell onto the couch on her right. He followed the direction of Chizuru’s glance and froze.

Suddenly Okita bent in a half, desperately trying to suppress giggles. After a moment of struggle, he burst out laughing madly, slapping his knee. Chizuru was completely baffled by his behaviour and so was Saitou-san. Finally, breathless, Okita mumbled “Awesome!” and jumped up. Chizuru watched him departing towards the bar with an unfamiliar springy stride, maneuvering deftly between the tables. Even his usual slight stoop disappeared. He bent down towards the girl and Chizuru could only hear flirting overtones of his voice. Her mouth went dry as she sat as though turned to stone in her seat.

“Yukimura-san, it’s fine,” Saitou-san muttered into her ear. Chizuru twitched. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Saitou-san was looking at her with awful awareness.  

“Oh!” Chizuru went numb. She hadn’t intended to wear her feelings on her sleeve.

“It’s fine.” He repeated reassuringly, meaning that her secret was safe with him.  

“Thank you, Saitou-san,” mumbled Chizuru, at a loss for better words. Meanwhile, Okita went on about ‘having the happy good fortune to encounter such a magnificent belle.’ Something was odd about it. Chizuru had never seen him approaching any other girl before. He always demonstrated an odd lack of interest in love affairs and a total unwillingness to discuss the topic. On top of that, she thought that a strange and thrilling thing was happening between them, which gave her a hope of…

The girl, tomato-red to the tips of her ears, grabbed her coat and stormed out of the bar. Okita, unable to hold back anymore, burst into uncontrollable laughter, grabbing his chest. The cops glared at him and left too. Chizuru glanced at Saitou-san. A confused smile was plastered across his face. The whole scene didn’t make sense at all.

Shaking with laughter, Okita approached their table and collapsed onto the seat. His laughter went down to chuckles and soon he calmed down.

“My, my, that was too good,” he muttered under his breath. “Yamazaki's gonna hate me forever for this.”

“Yamazaki-san?” exclaimed Chizuru, but Okita hushed her.

“Shhh, Chizuru-chan, do you want to reveal classified information? Keep your voice down or I’ll have to take measures.”

“He occasionally cross-dresses to spy for Hijikata-san,” Saitou-san explained quietly. Chizuru’s eyes widened. “That was how we knew about the conditions of your imprisonment, Souji, you cement head.” That was the rudest thing Chizuru had ever heard from Saitou-san.

“Hajime-kun, have mercy! Besides, I saw you smiling too.” Okita snickered.

“I have to admit, it was a bit funny. However, I am ashamed and you should be too. And… Yukimura-san did not smile.”

“Hmm…” Okita turned to Chizuru with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Don’t say anything!” Chizuru blurted helplessly.

To her surprise, Okita smiled playfully. “Your wish is my command,” he replied.

…

A few hours after the celebration had started, Hijikata-san appeared, shaking the snowflakes off his coat. A gust of cold wind followed him into the basement.  

“Gracing our humble abode with his presence,” noted Okita.

Hijikata-san congratulated the birthday boy (already heavily buzzed) and immediately proceeded to their corner.

“What happened to Yamazaki?” he asked curtly. His eyes were fixed on a certain someone.

After a short pause, Chizuru and Saitou-san answered simultaneously.

“Nothing,” said Chizuru.

“Souji,” said Saitou-san.

Chizuru felt herself flushing. Hijikata-san frowned.

A victorious smirk appeared on Okita’s face. “Shame on you, Chizuru-chan,” he said censoriously, but his eyes were laughing. “We’re partners in crime now.” Chizuru smiled wryly.

Hijikata-san rolled his eyes and sighed. “He said that _someone_ was harassing him and he had to leave his vantage point. Ah… To hell with it for today!” The joyful atmosphere of the celebration did its job: Hijikata-san gave up further lecturing. He looked around the club as if waking up from a long sleep, put a cigarette in his mouth and then gazed at Okita.

“And you actually tried to flirt with him?”

“Bared my jaded heart.” Okita stared at him with his brazen eyes.

Hijikata-san made an inarticulate sound that could pass for a chuckle. “Tongue of a wasp,” he muttered with a sudden smile. Okita’s gaze warmed a fraction. Hijikata-san lit a cigarette and departed to the bar to choose a drink.

“Psst! Souji!” A tousled Sano-san approached their table. “You’d better thank him, not add new troubles. You know, he nearly buried those cops and their department the evening you were detained. And then, on TV…”

“You are the voice of my long-lost conscience, Sano-san,” sighed Okita.

“Oh, that vile Souji!” retorted Sano-san. “Why don’t you give him a rest once in a while.”

"Well, Hijikata-san doesn't change, does he?" Okita bit back. For some reason, though, his words were less certain than usual. Everyone turned to him.

“You’re probably not looking closely enough,” answered Sano-san. Saitou-san nodded.

Hijikata-san returned, armed with a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese. “This new lawyer of Kondou-san’s, Itou-san, is trying to worm his way into our business. I had to meet with him today. On top of that, Serizawa-san kept me damn long in his office.” He poured dark liquid to the glass. Registering their anxious faces, he continued. “He still thinks that we’ve never had a better chance in our freaking lives  before this shit started. We’re trying to organize another concert.”

Chizuru couldn’t say no to that. As a new member, she didn’t receive any fees for the records and her savings were about to end.

Shortly after that, Shinpachi-san got tired of mild rock music and launched _Angerfist_. The club started to shake. On the safe periphery, Hijikata-san was preaching to Chizuru and Saitou-san. Okita and Sano-san had quickly disappeared when their manager started to crack strange jokes. He had clearly exceeded his alcohol limit and had started to vent the pent-up anger he had been holding within for a long time. Chizuru felt sorry for him as his burden was the heaviest.

“Dreariness and desolation! There must be some curse on these people… Idiots are coddled, idiots are nurtured, they are cultivated; idiot has become the norm; a little more and he would become the ideal!” Hijikata-san banged his fist down on the table. “And this guy wants us to waltz with idiots! Oh how skillfully you can solve your crossword, dear idiot, now go listen to our music! Don’t worry about a thing: all science, art and literature are at your service! And all I write with the blood of my soul must be wasted on them! ...”

“This is the city of the dead,” stated Okita, appearing by Chizuru’s side. The girl twitched. “Sorry, Chizuru-chan!” He purred the words into her ear, making the skin on the back of her neck crawl excitingly. “Don’t waste your time on the pitiful ones, Hijikata-san.”

Not only Hijikata-san had exceeded his alcohol limit that night.

“ _We_ are the pitiful ones now, Souji! We are seditious skeptics and troublemakers! We are complaining, we dare to say that it’s not okay!! The idiots believe that everything is fine with this country and these people! They think we're show-offs. How dare we have more needs than they do?!”

...

The pack was strolling up the Bar Mile. Despite the late hour the street was full of people. The air was tense with the _Friday_ vibe. Gaudy storefronts illuminated the fresh snow. Everyone sobered up a bit in the cold air of the night. Hijikata-san’s pace was unsteady, but he was determined to reach the headquarters on foot.

Shinpachi-san had just learned about the harassment case, but due to his merry condition, he failed to sort out the essence of Okita’s prank.

“S-ji! Yu’re not skilled with ga-als. I’d teach you hawto handle th-m!” Shinpachi-san exclaimed. “But whatta’bout Chizuru-chan?” It was evident that the thought had suddenly crossed his mind.

Okita cursed under his breath. Hijikata-san exchanged glances with Saitou-san.

“Let’s go, Sh-shinpachi!” Sano-san dragged his friend further ahead.

Heisuke-kun mumbled something about Souji being a blockhead ( _‘bluckhe-ed’,_ if being accurate) and moved after them. They were followed by Okita and Chizuru. Closing the procession were Hijikata-san and Saitou-san.

Saitou-san deftly made a remark about the crowd being so lively that evening. Indeed, the cheerfulness of the faces around them was refreshing. Chizuru made an amused comment. She perked up a little, watching joyful, Friday-evening party-goers.  

“You really are something else,” noted Okita. “What’s so amusing about those homeless?” He pointed at the group of men in the distance. “Or those hookers? And those gypsies are junkies, I’ve hung out with them before. Their veins are all rotten.”

“Yu-u lift the spirits!” grumbled Hijikata-san from behind them.

“Sorry.” Again, Chizuru felt ashamed for being so unaware. “I didn’t know.” She wasn’t accustomed to the image of misfortune. She saw diversity instead of misery. Laughing faces instead of lit-up grimaces. Affection instead of lust. Okita studied her face for a bit before his lips formed a small smile.

“So-ji, wha’were you doin’ at Gypsies’ aga-n? Haven’ you quit gambling?” Hijikata-san interrupted, concerned.

“Do you expect me to starve considering we have no concerts? I tried to sell the beat I’d recently made, but the deal fell through.”

“Hijikata-san, you visited _the Swamp_ too,” said honest Saitou-san.

“Indeed! Physician, heal thyself,” said Okita. “By the way, your speech about idiots wasn’t bad. Why don’t you remake the album's concept in that direction?” It turned out that Okita had recorded Hijikata-san’s preaching.

“So you are also a gambler,” remarked Chizuru, after the new wave of bickering went cold. “A poker-face master, I guess.”

Whether it was the alcohol or the celebration to blame, Okita was more open than usual. “I earned my first money doing that. Back at the House.”

“The House?”

He only smiled in response.

…

Chizuru was extremely upset when she watched the recording of the notorious talk show and see her parents in the front row. Kaoru had thoughtfully provided her with a link. Her father didn’t say a word, but her stepmother was rather active.

“You're born, raised and then torn down,” was Okita’s comment on it. His eyes were sharp with venom. “Seems that your folks abandoned you after all.” He stated it bluntly and Chizuru had to make an effort to hold back tears. She was overwhelmed with emotions and didn’t notice a twinge of grief in his eyes.

Surprisingly, she felt her sorrow channeling into rage. Her stepmother must finally be at ease, lamenting about the ‘poor child’ on TV. “I’m not giving in,” Chizuru told Okita.

“That’s the spirit!” he praised her. ‘It’s quite amusing to see how the pain of the break-up is contradicted by the unwillingness to feel sorry for yourself,’ Okita thought, studying her scowling face. ‘There are far too many people whose miserable natures are always triumphing.’

As if Chizuru didn’t have enough troubles with her family, old acquaintances kept ignoring her en masse. The girl had grown accustomed to that, so she was astonished to unexpectedly make a new one. The day after Shinpachi-san’s birthday  Chizuru was startled by a morning _courier -_ a freaking courier in the Slums! - who had struggled to get to their door through the impassable autumn roads. He handled her a letter. A paper envelope with several densely written sheets inside. The handwriting was tiny and delicate. _Just who writes paper letters these days?_ she thought.

It turned out be Okita’s former cellmate, a person famous in certain circles and frequently going by the nickname 'bastard-sama'. Okita made a strange face, keeping his eyes fixed on the letter but for once in a blue moon, he didn’t say anything. Chizuru was taken off-guard by the sudden sign of attention, unsure what to do.  

The letter was part detailed introduction; part gentle compliments that embarrassed the hell out of Chizuru; part reflection about this and that; part compassion towards a fellow musician and a bit of mysterious veil. If Okita had seen the letter, he would have told her that the ingredients of the conquest plan were decently balanced. The mysterious veil was well-calculated too. Had he not seen things like that before?  

Chizuru made up a short answer and sent it via e-mail. The intimidating _Oni 404_ vocalist made her wish to stay away from him. However, he appeared more human on paper. Several points piqued her curiosity and their bizarre conversation began. Kazama Chikage was an active young man with vast resources to fulfill his fads. At the same time, there was a slight sorrow hidden between the lines of his letters. The feeling of fleeting time and the finiteness of her current intense life, struck Chizuru hard.

Courier boy must have cursed the quirks of his employer, but he appeared every day without delay, after the morning traffic jams on the Crossroad had eased up a little.  

“So, how is he?” Okita asked lazily, after a week and a pack of letters. They were sitting in the kitchen, preparing for the interview. It went without saying that he knew her correspondent’s identity. Chizuru pretended that she was not surprised.  

“He’s - hmm - an interesting person,” she said cautiously.

Okita looked at her with scornful disbelief.

She continued. “He’s well educated and thoughtful, as far as I can judge. He has his issues, but so have I. And you.” Chizuru didn’t like the conversation.

“So he’s worth his weight in gold.”

“You don’t like him, do you?” The prospect of a verbal duel with Okita was not tempting, but Kazama didn’t deserve to be treated with prejudice.

“It doesn’t matter if I like him or not.” Okita stood up. “Have fun.” He left the room.

Chizuru stared at the closed door, motionless. Sudden tears of hurt started to creep down her cheeks.

…

_The nerve of that bastard…_

* * *

**_An illustration for this chapter:_ **

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ImpracticalDemon for beta reading!  
> ...  
> The chapter is named after ‘The spider and the fly’ by London After MIdnight.  
> ...  
> Hijikata-san’s preaching was heavily inspired by the well-known fragment of russian sci-fi book ‘The Final Circle of Paradise’ by Strugatsky Brothers (two of the most significant russian authors of the 20th century).  
> ...  
> For this chapter, I’ve drawn a comic stripe illustrating Okita’s prank at the bar. I’ve never done any comics before so I’m satisfied with my drawing and disappointed with the structure of the stripe and with the lines. But I’ll definitely do better next time. Feel free to check the comic on my Tumblr (kurokiorya).


	12. Walking on nails

Some people can sharpen others like knives. If there was a person to sharpen Okita Souji and reveal his knife edges, it would be the man Chizuru had met that morning. Though Okita would object to the statement and insist that he had been sharpened by his life itself. Chizuru smirked at the thought and went outside.

Okita was waiting for her, sitting on the wooden deck near the front entrance, his legs crossed and eyes looking out at the blue-ish distance of the river. Sunlight of the rare clear day - not warm but certainly invigorating - was spilling over the site. Okita’s hair had grown long and the unkempt strands were burning red in the sun.

He noticed Chizuru approaching and his mouth went up at the corner. The spruce color of his coat brought up the auburn of his hair and the vibrant green of his eyes. This handful of positive colors didn’t quite match the wary expression of his face.

“So… Any impressions?” He rose towards her and they went to the car. Despite Hijikata-san’s orders, Okita had refused to accompany Chizuru to the interview. He had taken her to the old flour-milling factory by the river, currently adapted for offices, and stayed outside the whole time. 

“Layered.” Chizuru blurted the first thing that popped up in her mind. ‘Kei-kun’ had been wrapped into several pieces of dark clothing, hiding his figure; long brown hair curtained his face; eyes were hidden behind the glasses with round goth-ish lenses. His courteous manners were also ‘layered’ in her view; their carefulness seemed almost strained.  

“Smooth,” she added. “Not very talkative, I suppose.” An interviewer is not supposed to be talkative, but he is expected to act empathetic, at least. 

“Did he ask you anything off-topic?” Okita asked, uncharacteristically laconic. 

“About politics, if that counts.” The gust of wind made Chizuru shiver and she pulled her coat tighter around her. 

“And you…?” Okita looked at her with a blank face. 

“I told the truth,” Chizuru answered reluctantly. “I’m not really interested in politics, I must admit. I mean… All this corruption is awful and all, but I’m not going to rebel. What am I, fourteen?”

“Hijikata-san is thirty one, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him.” Okita smiled lopsidedly.  

“Hijikata-san is a saint for putting common interests above his own.”

“Or a fool…” muttered Okita. They reached his car and got into. “That fixation of his…” He grumbled while warming up the car and adjusting the heating for Chizuru’s seat. “Anyway, what do you want to do if revolt is out of question? Not many options left, truly.”

_ Thanks god, he’s in a good mood again _ , thought Chizuru, going limp in her seat. The feeling of warmth was relaxing. “I guess I want to feel alive--” she began. 

“In other words, you want to have fun and to hell with this country,” smirked Okita. “Oh, how selfish of you.” He started off, driving through the narrow alleyways of the Western Slums. Chizuru could never tell them apart, yet Okita was navigating confidently.  

“Call it whatever you like.” She sighed.

“Man, you’re just as bad as I am. I don’t care about the country either, may it all rot for fuck’s sake. Having fun or - as you call it - feeling alive is far more important and useful.” 

Chizuru smiled timidly. She had tried to determine her attitude about the whole situation; to find some rage in herself. Instead, it made her feel small and incapable. She didn’t want to see Okita’s bruises again, or Heisuke-kun brooding about his family, Hijikata-san being nervous and sleepless and living on coffee, Sano-san and Shinpachi-san trying to lift everyone’s spirits, and Saitou-san never smiling. It had been so much better when they had just worked and had fun together, without being in the news weekly. Her own family’s feedback didn’t ease it too. 

“And after that, I bet he asked more,” Okita noted. “While Hijikata-san is dissing local authorities about religious censorship and shit, his musicians just want to chill, how’s that?!”

“Oh, come on!” Chizuru brushed him off. “Well, he asked about my - so to speak - moral grounds. Quite a manipulative man he seems.”

“I wish I’d known that when I first met him.” Okita fell into a pensive state again. 

His mood swings were truly disconcerting at times. 

...

Kazama kept being persistent in his communication with Chizuru. She had politely declined several offers to meet for lunch; however, a theatre performance seemed to be a neutral choice. Okita was unpredictable, changing from aloof to clowning around several times a day. Thus, frustration drove Chizuru to accept Kazama’s invitation. It had been a while since she went out. Trapped in the Slums for too long, she craved a change of surroundings. A ballet performance promised a refreshing experience of hiding in the darkness of the auditorium and forgetting about everything for a couple hours. Her pleasant excitement was tainted though. 

For the evening, Chizuru had chosen a baggy black dress and a pair of high heels, hidden safely in her baggage. She was not in the mood to dress up.

Kazama insisted on picking her up and - as she had already known - he could be very stubborn when he wanted.  _ Fine _ , she thought,  _ I’m curious to see your face when you see where I live.  _

The forthcoming winter had freshened the dusty air of the Slums. The evening chill was seeping through her coat. Chizuru slowly went along the broken brick road towards Kazama’s car, trying to avoid frozen puddles. The car had obviously been clean and shining just before entering the Slums’ streets. It looked too gross for the small scale of the site. 

Kazama got out to open the door for Chizuru and see her to her seat. “I’m glad to finally meet you in person,” he drawled, studying her face. 

His whole gentlemanly demeanor seemed to deliver a clear message:  _ you can relax when you are with me, I will take care of everything from now on.  _ Chizuru noted that - unlike the other underground musicians - Kazama had a civilized appearance. His hair was cut rather short; borderline tidy. He had no tattoos, earrings, makeup or other fancy bits, which turned people into Bosch barbarians. Only the color of his eyes - pale with a scarlet rim - was strangely unsettling. Those were the demonic eyes of an albino, but nothing else in his appearance - from honey-blonde hair and eyebrows to a normal skin tone - was reminiscent of albinos. 

“Likewise,” she answered. She shifted uneasily under his attentive stare and he finally turned his focus to driving.

“This house is rather quirky for a Yukimura family residence,” Kazama said gravely.

“Well, it’s my residence and I like it,” said Chizuru, smiling politely. _ What’s wrong with them all?  _ she thought.  _ That tunnel thinking…  _

Kazama had taken everything upon himself, including the choice of ballet, which was somewhat outdated, a classic that hadn’t been given the benefit of fresh ideas or interpretation. The performance itself surpassed Chizuru’s expectations, though not in the way she had expected. She was glad to hear a live orchestra once in a while, even spotting some familiar faces in the orchestra pit. She was amused by the refined public in the stalls. Her companion was flawless too, a bit too flawless for Chizuru’s taste. She used to swim in those waters back then, but she no longer felt at ease. Chizuru kept thinking what Okita would say about those piano parts, and how he would make fun of those smug faces, and whether he would - in some alternative universe - like her dress. She stared at the stage and pictured Saitou-san playing a pile-driving guitar riff there; Shinpachi-san and Heisuke-kun replacing the percussion section of the orchestra as well as the others. It would be nice to make a theatrical show. 

A couple of times Chizuru spotted her companion observing her in the dark. She thought it best to pretend not to notice. 

…

“Didn’t you like the performance?” Kazama asked. He insisted on treating her to dinner. No matter how polite and careful her refusals were, he accepted none of them. Soon, Chizuru found herself sitting across from him in some small restaurant.

“That’s not it!” She hurried to reassure him. “Thank you, it was a nice distraction!” 

“A nice distraction, was it?” Kazama didn’t look extremely happy with her response. 

The restaurant was rather strange - small and remote - obviously owned by some chinese immigrants. Chizuru had never delved into that part of the city before and she felt insecure. At that late hour there were only a few customers. 

Chizuru wasn’t going to voice the fact that she didn’t enjoy the performance much. She had expected to be more delighted, hearing the live orchestra and seeing the elegant public in the stalls - all those things she used to cherish. Instead she felt that not only were her feet constricted by the uncomfortable shoes, but she herself was bound.

Kazama had probably sensed that her attention was wandering off during the performance, as he had gradually became more reserved. Chizuru was feeling a bit guilty for being so absent-minded, thus she accepted his dinner proposal. 

‘Yukimura-san, I am sincerely concerned about your well-being,” Kazama began suddenly, while they were waiting for their orders.

“Thank you, but I doubt that I’m really in danger.” Chizuru kept thanking him for no particular reason. Everything just felt off. She made a mental note to stop apologizing for nothing, or - to be honest - for not being able to react in a way that he - as had become obvious - expected. “What are you talking about?” It was evident that he was talking about the band though. 

“Your friend, Okita-kun, he… I know, he’s  _ interesting.”  _ Kazama spat the last word as if it was something sour. Chizuru raised a quizzical glance at him. “But do you know much about his background? Or should I ask whether you know anything about him at all?” His words were measured and monotonous and reassuring. 

Chizuru marveled at her newly-gained ‘friend’s’ confidence that they were alike, which gave him a self-proclaimed right to take responsibility for her affairs. She had always felt the same around her father and cousin - too submissive to make her own decisions. And she didn’t welcome that feeling again. 

At the same time, she would give much for any little piece of information about Okita. However, it would be highly preferable to learn everything from Okita himself. 

Kazama didn’t seem to be bothered by her confusion. “I see…” he droned ponderously. “He’s not that talkative about himself, right? If I were him, I wouldn’t be either.” He frowned. “He’s been a total orphan since the age of four; grown up in one of the worst foster houses on the left bank. I don’t need to tell you what it was like in the nineties when the crisis had erupted.”

Now Kazama had her complete attention. Earlier, Chizuru had somehow assumed that Okita had been brought up by his mother and her new husband - meaning Kondou-san. The idea of both his parents having passed away had never crossed her mind before. Chizuru’s heart sank with regret and compassion. And it was totally the wrong time and place to get that news.

A small smirk touched Kazama’s lips. The startled look on the girl’s face encouraged him to continue. “His former mates remember him as pretty dangerous. He’d hurt a number of his fellows in a savage way. He was adopted by a rustic owner of a small  _ doujo _ in the Workmen district. Hell knows how he charmed that man to do it. People couldn’t afford to feed their own children back then, not mentioning outsiders.”

That was a good moment to stand up and leave. Chizuru felt like she was betraying Okita by listening to all that gossip, but she couldn’t make herself move. Partly, it was her timidity to blame - she couldn’t just interrupt an intimidating speaker. Partly, it was a disgusting curiosity.  _ I’m not taking his words for granted _ , she thought.  _ And it could turn out to be useful for Okita - to know the rumors about him.  _ She helplessly tried to reassure herself. 

“For some reason, he left his new family at the age of fourteen,” Kazama continued leisurely. He didn’t seem to have any problem discussing an absent person. “Probably, his step-parents had got to know him better and kicked him out when he reached the age of responsibility.”

“Kazama-san, please, mind your language,” Chizuru interrupted. Disgust was starting to win over her win out over her curiosity. Dishes appeared before her, but she didn’t notice.

“You want me to stop?” Kazama asked teasingly.

“No…” Chizuru said slowly. “But if you can’t display, or pretend, a bit of benevolence towards him, I’m going to leave, sorry.” She managed a courteous smile. 

Kazama smirked at her defiance and said. “Fine… He started to live with that mad alchemist and god knows what they did together.”

“What ‘alchemist’? Sannan-san was a sound designer just yesterday.” 

“Is that what he told you? Ha. Yukimura-san, there’s no person in the provincial underground who earns his living by music alone.” Kazama took a sip from his glass. “You’d be surprised how many people remember the rumors from that time.”  _ Especially, with a certain motivation.  _ “Things that occurred in those squat and squalid buildings in the Slums are not for your delicate ears.”

Chizuru kept staring at the yellow circle of tea in her cup. It was hard to believe that Okita was such a terrorist. She had already had a couple of chances to witness how people treated him worse than he deserved just because of his idiotically provoking demeanor.  _ It’s a half-lie and you’ll never know which half is which, _ the line from the song rang in her mind.  

Meanwhile, Kazama continued. “I don’t know how on earth…” He caught Chizuru’s stern glance and corrected himself. “I don’t know how he managed to finish school, considering that he lived in the unauthorized zone. After school he enrolled in the music college but dropped out of it during his sophomore or junior year.” Chizuru wondered why Kazama avoided speaking Okita’s name. Perhaps he had some shame after all. However, that didn’t stop him from delivering his next bit of evidence. “He’s often seen with various women.” Kazama showed Chizuru a couple of blurred photos of Okita and a red-head girl. 

After the bar incident, Chizuru couldn’t confuse Yamazaki Susumu for anyone else. She made a strangled sound, suppressing a hysterical giggle. The whole thing suddenly became even more surreal.

“Oh, that vicious Okita!” She murmured dramatically, eyeing the photos.  _ Damn, I’m overdoing it... But how can he take this crap seriously?  _

Kazama bought her performance and his face gained a contented expression. Earlier that week, Hijikata-san had sentenced Okita to accompany Yamazaki to a couple of potentially dangerous places to “strengthen” their relations. Yamazaki had received the news with a stoic attitude. Okita had suggested that it was more Yamazaki’s punishment than his own, but that he would gladly accept it (said with a predatory smile).

Chizuru sighed. “Why are you so concerned about Okita-san?”

“I am concerned about you,” Kazama corrected her with a grin. “You are a newcomer and you don’t have to take responsibility for the management mistakes and the recklessness of the… other members.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” Chizuru asked cautiously.  _ While criticizing, suggest.  _

“You’d better return to where you belong. You are not a Slums girl and you won’t blend in properly anyway. People will keep dodging you. In their eyes, every step you take betrays your breed.”

“I’ve been there before.”  _ Where are those people now? All those well-bred people from where-I-belong. _

“Look at me.” Kazama continued to persuade her with a patience that he rarely showed. “You can keep doing what you like and still be socially acceptable.”

“And what are your overall goals? How far are you determined to go?” Their conversation started to resemble the one she had had with Okita the day before. 

Kazama’s face darkened. Chizuru belatedly thought that she had probably stepped on a sensitive spot. 

“I didn’t mean to press you,” she said. 

“No…” Kazama lowered his eyes. “I know my duty. I’m going to become a successor to my family’s business and an heir to our clan. Which means that I can enjoy playing music until I must leave which will happen in due time.” His voice was level, but his pose and clenched fists betrayed that the issue bothered him a great deal. 

Chizuru could only guess how hard that decision could be, although she did know something about opposing one’s family. 

“Your determination to do what’s necessary is impressive,” she said, trying to reassure him. ‘And where’s fun in that?’ Okita’s voice asked in her head. 

“So… Why don’t you be by my side when the time comes?” Kazama asked suddenly. Sore albino’s eyes captured hers. His glare was hard; Chizuru felt as if she had no clothes on her and shifted in her seat uneasily. 

“Excuse me?” That was all she managed to say.  _ I don’t even know you! _

The corner of his lips twitched down. “I asked you if you would agree to go out with me,” Kazama explained readily, staring at her from under his heavy eyelids.

The man sure has confidence, Chizuru thought in confusion. The bewilderment she had been feeling in front of him returned. 

“I don’t mean to do it immediately,” he said.

Chizuru released the breath she was holding. Reading his letters, she’d gotten accustomed to thinking that Kazama was better than he was usually treated by people (including her fellow band members). At least he had suggested getting to know each other more. 

While she was preparing some courteous refusal, he blurted, “We could wait for things to calm down a bit.” 

“You mean, until the fundies stop bringing up my name here and there?” Chizuru shickered in a very Okita-like way. “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

She stood up. There was nothing left to discuss, and in her opinion the evening had already lasted for far too long. Kazama continued to eye her attentively. He didn’t make an attempt to stop her and didn’t seem to be especially upset. 

“I appreciate your concern,” Chizuru continued. “And thanks for the evening. I am impressed by your  _ thoughtfulness _ , but it’s not my cup of tea.” She wondered whether she would ever be able to just say ‘fuck you, douchebag’ and leave, banging the door on the way out. Good upbringing could be such an obstacle sometimes. Constantly minding others’ feelings and reactions, it was too easy to forget one’s own borders.  

“We’ll see,” Kazama said calmly. “My offer is still on the table. Let me drive you home.”

His last line was followed by several minutes of controversy. Finally, Chizuru insisted on going by herself and left the restaurant, leaving him behind. She felt herself on the verge of tears and didn’t want to stay in his company any longer.

The November evening was inky dark. A lonely man was smoking on the windswept porch. Chizuru got behind the column, trying to hide from the autumn wind. The alleyway was deadly silent. _He must have chosen the remotest restaurant in the whole city_ , she thought. _So that no one would see him with me._ _What a jerk!_

Anyway, the most urgent matter was to get home. Chizuru didn’t have enough money to take a taxi so she had to call one of the guys for help. 

Okita picked up almost immediately. Chizuru heard some intense background noise, meaning that he wasn’t home either.

“Bored without me, Chizuru-chan?” he asked in his usual manner.

“Always.” She answered in a matching tone.

“What about your knight in shining armor in the big car?”

“Hope I’m not seeing him anytime soon. Um, Okita-san… I was actually going to ask you a favor.”

“Well...?”

“Could you take me home, please? I’m alone here and I have - uh - no money to take a taxi.” 

She was expecting further teasing about Kazama. Instead, she heard some woman in the background, saying “Your turn now, Souji-sa-an.” Chizuru frowned.

“Sorry, Chizuru-chan, no can do. I’m not at the HQ and I’m a pedestrian today.” His voice was strained. “Call Hajime-kun, he must be free now.”

“Fine…” 

“Drop me a line when you get home, okay?” Okita switched off.

It was too soon to give up, so Chizuru called Saitou-san, trying to ignore the woman’s voice ringing in her head. He agreed to lend her a hand and asked her to give him half an hour.

At that moment, the front doors slammed open and Kazama appeared on the porch. He didn’t see Chizuru, while she could clearly see him from her hideout. Kazama committed a vocalist’s sin by dragging a cigarette out of his pocket and taking a nervous inhale. Then he raised a phone to his ear.

Due to the dead silence of the alleyway, the voice in the phone was clearly audible.  _ “Calling so soon… Got dumped again? Bring flowers already.” _

“Fuck you, Kyo-kun,” Kazama retorted angrily. A barking laugh followed in reply. “I want you to contact that Nagumo boy.”

_ That must be the Onis’ keyboardist _ , Chizuru thought automatically.  _ And someone called Nagumo…  _ At that moment her own phone rang. She stiffened in her corner and picked it up. Saitou-san was calling to tell her that he was leaving. Kazama turned to her, nodded his farewell, and left towards his car, talking to Kyo-kun. 

Chizuru was finally alone, wishing only to get to the headquarters as soon as possible. For those who wait, time goes by slowly. However, the cold weather made her time even slower and the latest events made it stained. Kazama’s offer had thrown her off-guard. Chizuru had an unpleasant feeling that her womanhood was considered the only thing interesting about her. Who cared about her fiddling, her personality or her thoughts? Would he even bother to make friends with her if there was no profit expected?

…

_ The Gallows _ is crowded at this time of the week. I’ve just lost quite a bit of money. Had nothing up my sleeve against that last royal flush. Now I need to get out of here before those guys claim their debt.     

“Ever so productive a musician, aren’t you,” the quiet voice says into my ear.

I turn around, ready to smack whoever it is. 

“Ah, it’s you.” He smiles. Always so sneaky. “That’s exactly why I have to do it, you know; to keep playing music. And what’s your business here? Selling your shit again?”

“You never minded that before.” He sits down on the bench beside me. 

“Yeah. People are free to rot however they want, for all I care. Aren’t we creative with our side jobs?” 

“Hijikata-kun seems to have a pretty boring one. And your girl? Are you supporting her already? It was funny of you to hire her and withhold the salary.”

“She’s not  _ my  _ girl.” Where do they all get this idea? “How was your interview, by the way?”

“She’s quite innocent for her age and occupation. Let’s say, the target audience would be delighted by her crystal-clear naivete, but overall it’s rather boring.”

“Glad to hear that.” Would be much worse if he developed any interest in the girl. Like he says, she’s too innocent to deal with him. She should practise on her Kazama-douche first. 

Kei-kun grins at me. We bicker like an old couple every freaking time. I just can’t deal with him normally. There aren’t many people out there who can derail me, so he deserves some applause.

We talk for a bit. He says that there are rumors about the next wave of prohibitions. Some officials are faking their concern and shit. Kei-kun also tries to warn me about the Water-of-fucking-life again but - really - I don’t give a damn. I have other things on my mind to worry about.

“Even if the fundies get off on that crap, so what?”

“It’s not like there are only certain social groups that consume it.” Kei-kun smiles. Yeah, that was one hell of a chilling smile. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to push an unstable person onto the path of self-destruction.”

“Oh, thanks for the friendly reminder.” I try to sound sarcastic, but honestly, I’d had enough of this place a while ago. I stand to take my leave, immediately registering several guys who stand up too.

I should’ve stopped visiting the Swamp so often, especially this goddamn bar, but I need money. Bad things never happen at a proper time. Today I’m allowed to leave without paying. I should probably thank Kei-kun for walking me out through the row of irritated gypsy faces. Their stares promise nothing good.

I part from Kei-kun; that knowing smile of his is the last thing I see in  _ the Gallows _ .  

I leave the building and the street immediately grows dark and quiet around me. No humans in sight - the whole of the Swamp prefers to stay at home when it’s cold outside. The snow has been falling since noon and it’s not even the middle of November. Winter’s going to be rough this year. Soon enough, snowdrifts will be full of little creatures - cats or birds - frozen to death. Maybe even people. I bet Chizuru isn’t used to this semi-urban hardcore.

The sky is drearily orange in the north, where the city is humming, and jet black in the south, near the river. 

I should dislike wasting my time in the  _ Swamp _ – aren’t I tired of scoundrels, shit-talking and scams? But I continue schlepping here to put myself on edge.  

...May I let her see who I really am? I have quite a lot of experience now with pretending in front of Kondou-san and I’m done with it. I’m not eager to keep waiting for the moment when she finally sees through me and abandons this perverse wretch that is Okita Souji.  

...

Her feet in the tight shoes were starting to go numb when she saw a single light in the distance. Chizuru had belatedly remembered that Saitou-san owned a motorbike, but she was in no position to choose.  

The biker approached and stopped in front of the porch. He took off the helmet; dark wavy strands fell down to enfold his shoulders. 

“Yukimura-san, you could catch cold standing here,” Saitou-san declared, examining her outfit. “It’s no good waiting outside in this kind of weather.” 

“You’ve arrived pretty fast, thank you, so I’m not that cold.” Chizuru smiled, toddling towards him. It was a relief to finally see a genuinely friendly face. 

Saitou-san made her take his helmet. Then he gathered his hair into a low ponytail and helped Chizuru get onto the bike. She clung to him and the bike smoothly started off. 

It was an unparalleled feeling - to drift through the evening flow of traffic on the crowded central streets. The bike managed to move through every tiny gap and Chizuru caught several envious glances from the people trapped in their cars. When Saitou-san finally got to the arterial thoroughfare, he rapidly sped up and they swept into the whirl of lights. Chizuru broke down and grabbed Saitou-san tighter. The tips of his white scarf flapped against her helmet. It turned out that she badly needed those high speeds and the wind and the excitement.

The Slums met them with the familiar sounds of dogs barking and old trees rustling in the wind. The alleys were lightly covered with snow.

It was a relief to get into the mansion and finally take off the heels. Chizuru blissfully plunged her aching and frozen feet into comfortable slippers. ‘I’m home,’ she thought with satisfaction, still wound up after the night ride. 

Saitou-san said that he would stay in the guest room to prepare for tomorrow’s noon rehearsal. Chizuru couldn’t help but marvel at his sense of duty. They went to the kitchen to get a snack.

“Say, Saitou-san,” Chizuru began, grinning. Saitou-san raised his eyes from the teapot he was currently filling with leaves. “Is it legal to drive that fast on the Thoroughfare?”

“No, the speed is limited to eighty kilometres per hour,” Saitou-san said calmly.

“Are you fine with breaking the speed limit then?”

“You looked like you needed some distraction.” Saitou-san turned away to get the boiling water.

“Oh…” Chizuru stared at his back, startled. “That was incredible. Thank you!” She fought an urge to give him a hug. It probably required a lot of compassion to take care of your fellow being in a time of trouble. Chizuru suddenly became aware of how she had been relying on Saitou-san’s kindness recently without giving anything equal in return. She would always deny that she was not okay, but Saitou-san never asked. Instead, he did what seemed right.

Saitou-san offered to make her a cocktail to warm up after the ride. Chizuru agreed, curious about this other talent of his. 

Examining the stores revealed decent reserves of alcohol, probably arranged by Shinpachi-san and Sano-san. The headquarters could indeed survive a siege. 

“I can make a  _ White Russian _ for you,” Saitou-san said, looking at her attentively. “This is Souji’s favorite when he bothers with liquor. Too sweet for my taste though.”

Chizuru made a face, immediately recalling Okita’s recent escapades. ‘ _ Souji-sa-an’  _ the voice echoed in her head _. _ She nodded her agreement. 

_ So, it’s him,  _ thought Saitou.  _ Souji, why must you always hurt people who care about you? _

The front door’s lock clicked and Okita appeared at the kitchen door, sweeping the snowflakes off his hair. Chizuru mechanically noted his pale face and the dark circles around his eyes. 

He smiled hesitantly, looking at her gown. “Hajime-kun wears black for practical reasons, but what about you?” He didn’t wait for her answer, greeting Saitou-san instead and falling into the chair on his friend’s right. He always did so when they sat together, in order not to limit the movement of Saitou-san’s left hand. 

“Isn’t this my favorite--” Okita noticed Saitou-san’s activity.

“It’s not for you,” interrupted Saitou-san.

“And not for you either. Are you teaching Chizuru-chan your bad habits?”

“Yeah, have you noticed the recent increase of tofu consumption in the HQ?” Chizuru put in. Listening to their back-and-forth and inserting her occasional comments made her feel better. Indeed, it could be compared to wearing a pair of comfortable soft slippers after walking in tight torture heels. 

…

In the cold light of morning, yesterday’s difficulties seemed to fall by the wayside, making room for new ones. Coming to the kitchen, Chizuru beheld an unusual scene. Okita was sitting in the chair with his hair down while Saitou-san stood hesitantly behind his back with kitchen scissors quivering in his left hand and a comb clenched in his right.

Okita looked at her and raised his hand in a greeting gesture. Chizuru echoed his movement. 

“Stay still, Souji,” Saitou-san said severely. “Good morning, Yukimura-san.” He turned to Okita’s disheveled head and sighed. “I need to comb  _ this  _ first.”

“Don’t be silly, just cut them already!”

“How am I supposed to cut them when they are so sticky-uppy?”

Chizuru couldn’t help but giggle at their wrangling.

Okita glanced at her. “I did it myself first, but Hajime-kun said it’s uneven. He must already regret it by now.” He explained with a smirk. “My hair’s gotten too long for me to make the usual updo.” Somehow, he was more talkative than he’d been during the past week.

“Just sit already,” grumbled Saitou-san. 

“Saitou-san, are you okay with using regular scissors with your left hand?” Chizuru glanced at the scissors, placed awkwardly in Saitou-san’s fingers.

“Not really,” he answered. “I have special scissors at home.”

“Let me help then.” Chizuru gently took the scissors from Saitou-san’s hand. “Before it becomes irreversible.”

Okita fidgeted uneasily in his chair.

Saitou-san smiled gratefully. “Do me this favor,” he said, retiring from his place. “I will make some coffee while you work.” Okita snorted. Chizuru sprinkled some water over his head. 

Okita twitched. “Hey, what was that for?!” 

“Revenge!” chuckled Chizuru. “Just kidding.” She started to comb his hair, chatting about the hideous possibilities of an amateur hair-cutting and getting Okita’s biting responses. Her own hair was soft and thin while his strands were thick and ruffled. She was careful to untangle them all. Gradually, Okita fell silent. Chizuru’s playful mood withered as well.  

Saitou-san was always comfortable with silence. But now, watching the strangely silent Okita and Chizuru getting red, he almost rolled his eyes and decided to fill the gap with small talk. This was rapidly becoming a new habit of his. It was an unusual role for him to step out of his shell to dispel someone else’s awkwardness. 

“Souji had relatively long hair until he turned eighteen,” Saitou-san began. Probably not the best topic to open with, but the silence was getting tense. He felt a bit of irritation rising - why did he have to interfere in the mutual nonsense of two adults? For the sake of their common work? 

Saitou-san continued reminiscing for a bit. After the four years of the band’s existence, only he and Heisuke had kept their hair long. The others were successfully tempted by comfort.  

Chizuru listened with a smile. She finished combing and dampening Okita’s hair and picked up the scissors. The haircut was indeed uneven and required corrections. 

“Alright, I think it’s ready,” she finally said. Okita didn’t answer. “Mm… Would you like to take a look?”

“Do you like how it turned out?” he asked instead. His hands deftly tied his hair up with an elastic. 

Saitou-san closed his eyes with a sigh.   

“Um, yes,” Chizuru answered. “I liked the previous one too.”

“Hajime-kun, am I good-looking enough now?”

“Beauty comes from the inside,” grumbled Saitou-san.

“And so does ugliness,” sang Okita and stormed out of the room.

…

The evening after the rehearsal was mundane and quiet - as quiet as possible with Shinpachi-san on board. He cornered Saitou-san to continue their never-ending guitar dispute. Shinpachi-san’s ability to have an opinion about everything had long since ceased to surprise Chizuru. Saitou-san played an affordable Ibanez for lefties which was totally unfit in Shinpachi-san’s opinion. Okita was examining the last of Sano-san’s text. Luckily, Sano-san was not easily confused by his jibes, hinting that Okita could at least gain some relevant experience before judging love songs. Chizuru and Heisuke-kun were listening to their banter, inserting sporadic comments.

That was how Hijikata-san had found them when he arrived. His sudden visit promised nothing good and Chizuru’s instinct proved right. 

“I have good news and bad news,” he announced. “We’ve finally been accused of offending religious feelings, considering the songs--” Hijikata-san named several titles. “The poster of our last show is also considered apostate. I’ve got a subpoena.” He smiled wolfishly. 

Everyone seemed to accept the news stoically, since the percentage of nonsense was already high in their lives. Everyone except Heisuke-kun, who was staring at Hijikata-san in disbelief. 

“And the bad news?” Okita asked nonchalantly. He was sitting in the windowsill, as usual, pressing his back against the cold glass. 

“The bad news is that Kondou-san insists on hiring Itou Kashitarou as our lawyer.” He exchanged glances with Okita and added, “You would have known, if you had been here yesterday; he had invited us for dinner.”

“All I ever hear about is the poor thing,” declared Shinpachi-san. “Should we hire him into the band already? One person more or less doesn’t make much difference.” 

Everyone started to talk simultaneously except for Saitou-san and Chizuru. She was overwhelmed by the feeling of instability. Every day brought something new, rarely pleasant. Perhaps she needed to grow a tighter shell instead of coming out of it.

Heisuke-kun’s voice - full of sincere confusion - reached her ears. 

“But there are, in fact, a freaking lot of Hijikata-san’s songs with religion as a… a form of organised crime! People… You know, they may have their reasons to be offended.” There was genuine frustration in his voice. Heisuke-kun was always honest and straightforward. And now he didn’t hesitate to confront his friends, even Hijikata-san, of whom he was secretly rather frightened. 

Poor Heisuke-kun, thought Chizuru. The time to choose sides seemed to have already passed. Now was the time to keep sides. However, the girl felt compassion towards the need to question in and of itself. He wanted a steady ground under his feet, but none was available. 

“Heisuke, have you by any chance talked to Itou recently?” Hijikata-san asked angrily. 

“No, I haven’t!” Heisuke exclaimed. “People are free to believe in any stuff they want. No wonder they--”

“I’ve heard this crap a couple of times this week. ‘Hijikata-san, why not be more diplomatic? It’s about freedom of choice!’” Hijikata-san pressed his cheek with his hand and imitated Itou’s high-pitched voice, much to Okita’s amusement. “Just see the difference: they never mind fundamental disagreements, but they rise to whine about their church being trashed all the time!”

Heisuke turned red. “I know you don’t like that Itou, but maybe he’s not completely wrong.”

They stared at each other for a couple of moments. 

Shinpachi-san shifted between the debaters and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Relax, guys! It’s a done deal. Why squabble about it now?” 

Heisuke-kun looked at his friend as if he saw him for the first time. “I got to go,” he said sullenly. 

Hijikata-san opened his mouth, but Sano-san intervened. “Gentlemen, let Heisuke go.”

“See you at home,” Heisuke-kun mumbled to him, and left the room.  

Everyone fell silent, and the suddenness of that silence seemed even more painful than an open confrontation. Hijikata-san lit a cigarette. No one rushed to stop him this time.

Saitou-san spoke up. “As our group expands, and gains greater recognition, differences of opinion are more likely and also more noticeable. Views differ, it’s inevitable. There is no way for us to move further if we don’t start to listen to each other. No Itou Kashitarou can ruin us, unless we have inner conflicts.”

“What would you guys do without Hajime-kun and his wisdom,” Okita said but no one smiled.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is named after the song ‘Walking on Nails’ by Rabia Sorda.  
> ...  
> Greatest thanks to ImpracticalDemon for proofreading this chapter!


	13. Thy Serpent Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The circumstances risk to disrupt the pack from the inside. Some people start to question the rightness of their choices. Chizuru finds herself facing the cascade of uncertainties related to the band, her family and one particular boy.

 

The river flows fairly wide here, with side channels of all shapes and sizes being common. Still, it’s the narrowest point in many miles up and down the current. That is why two giant bridges cross the river here. Traffic - trains and cars alike - never quiets down at this place; people and goods constantly crossing the river to get to the transport hub on the Crossroad. The tradeways of the hinterlands meet in this city, tied in a dense node. Thus, both banks of the river are stained with humans and the multifarious  traces of their existence. What? No, I’m not a misanthrope. Will you listen to the rest?

The right bank of the river is high. Once, there was a thick ancient wood of mighty pines, long gone now. From the highest river frontage, the land roughly slopes down. This is where the Great Slums begin, occupying the riverine terraces. The shoreline below is rugged with creeks, small lakes and swamps. People who live in this lowest part of the Slums and breathe the swampy stench daily are cocky enough to call their area the Swamp, adding a capital letter. Undoubtedly, for a lack of better options. Ague is no longer a major threat in this place, but the Swamp still feels like a scary place to be. Not many people are willing to live here.

The opposite bank of the river is low and this is where the true great swamp is situated though no one takes any pride in calling it in such fashion. The life is dull and dire here, with inhabitants aiming for a moment of drunk oblivion between hard work and more hard work. People know better than to struggle with broken roads, ruined houses, and worn-out sewers. No, I haven’t lived there myself, don’t be ridiculous.  

In any event, the left bank is the worst.

There, among declining factories, residential blocks and foster houses, the solid building of the crematorium looks somewhat reassuring. If you are the type to gain strength from the promise of a sure ending. Anyway, plenty of Asian immigrants live on the left bank and they are not ones to be flustered by the prospect of death.

But why not return to the right bank? The Slums’ market is open today and dwellers hurry to refill their supplies before four p.m. I bet you are curious to take a look. It’s not far from the notorious Bar Mile, the heart and the wealth of the district.

Squeezing amidst buzzing people and loaded stalls, your eyes rest on those two. They don’t quite blend in properly, like an eyesore. You notice the boy first, for he’s difficult to ignore. He towers over his companion, just some regular girl. If he didn’t stoop, he would be taller than everyone else around him as well. His clothes are very simple - a coat, washed jeans and heavy boots, suitable for crossing muddy local streets. Simple, but uncharacteristically colorful, since people here prefer black and grey all year round. His longish hair is tied up in a messy bun. He says something to the girl with a wry smile.

The girl - oh, just who dresses themself like that for the market? - barely reaches his shoulder. Her long woolen coat is belted tightly about her waist. A large scarf is draped around her shoulders and head, making a cozy hood. Her small hands are gloved and her feet are armoured in heavy boots. Not bad for the mud either. As much as the boy is deft and quick and colorful, the girl is monochrome, quiet and uncertain in her movements. I’d say she has a kind of clumsy grace about her, though I doubt that she’s aware of it. And if she is, she probably fights it. Such girls with round eyes are never satisfied with themselves. She steals an occasional look at her companion when he doesn’t see - or, at least, so she thinks - and her face acquires that sort of stupid expression that leaves no room for interpretation.

They both are in their early twenties, still fresh and smooth and a bit carefree. Not entirely adults. Though time cannot be conquered. Their life vaguely leaks away like those around them. Soon enough, they will become but another pair of worn-out locals.

The girl is pretty, but what good does prettiness do you if he doesn’t so much as look at you? Oh, no, he does. The girl lowers her head to look at loads of meat on the stall and he studies her with an expression both weary and sullen. He must have felt you staring - should you always be so naughty? - and his eyes dart at you. He turns pale. You could swear that he was inches away from throwing something at you, and why not that butcher’s knife? Better turn away quickly and move on. Perhaps you caught him staring at a most sensitive moment.  

“What is it, Okita-san?” you hear the girl asking.

Don’t look back, idiot. I tell you that she smiles gently at him, ignoring his outburst. They will be fine if they are smart enough, don’t you think? Now go, you know better than observing the Slums’ folk, don’t you?  

…

It was about twenty p.m. when Chizuru ascended the stairs of the Market Square subway station. The biting cold of the outside was unwelcoming. All establishments on the first floor were full of people. Signs promised a warming seasonal menu, a celebration of ginger and cinnamon, painted in white, red and green. Chizuru had never enjoyed the signs of the forthcoming winter holidays. Still, the bright lights of  the coffee-shops were tempting for a girl who was eager to skip a family gathering.

With all the clouds gathering above the pack’s heads, Chizuru didn’t want to visit her family, especially in the light of the notorious talk-show. Besides, Heisuke-kun’s recent outburst had put everyone’s nerves on high alert.

“If Heisuke’s going to disrupt our work while searching for his truth,” Okita had said, “he might as well search for it someplace else. We’re tools here, all expendable.”  

Really, what else did she expect him to say?

“Though I’m more concerned about Hijikata-san,” Okita added. “He probably thinks he owns us and can use us for his personal nonsense.”

He might have a point with that too. A warrior’s gleam in Hijikata-san’s eyes… No, it wasn’t the time to think about that. No matter how unclear their common cause had become, Chizuru had her Father’s direct invitation to deal with. She felt equally obliged and irritated, but she couldn’t turn it down.

For the entire one-hour ride from the Crossroad, trapped in a stuffy subway car, Chizuru had tried to decide whether she should attend the get-together. She was still standing on a street corner in hesitation when a familiar voice from behind sent shivers down her spine.

“My, if it isn’t my sweet sister…” the voice sad airily.

She was a complete failure as a liar, much to Okita’s amusement. Particularly bad at imitating familial sentiments.

“Good evening, Kaoru.”

“The birds sing that you turned down a Kazama heir,” Kaoru chuckled. He looked oddly pleased.

Chizuru didn’t answer. Sometimes she fancied that Kaoru had direct access to her phone, police records, the city’s surveillance network, the windows of all the houses on the HQ’s street, even her head. She looked away at the evening lights.

“What chance did the heir have anyway?” Kaoru continued. “My sister, polished to the tips of her nails, is fascinated by a no-name punk.”

“I’m not polished,” mumbled Chizuru, ignoring the ‘no-name punk’ part.

“Not anymore,” Kaoru agreed readily. His round brown eyes wandered over her, noticing every detail.

Here’s a riddle, thought Chizuru. My cousin is mocking me. If I yell at him, he’ll just laugh. If I ignore him, he’ll become blunter. What should I do? What. Should. I. Do.

While she was processing those thoughts, Kaoru made a quick move to grab her arm. Chizuru cringed and tried to escape, but he held her tightly. He started leading her towards the Yukimura family house, talking some casual nonsense.  

If tools of power must be kept sharp, Kaoru was catching up for the time his cousin had been out of sight. It had always worked before - he acted roughly enough to keep her obedient. Yet he was never the one to blame - why, he didn’t _really_ hurt the girl, did he? It was always her fault for being too slow, absent-minded or sluggish. And never his - he was just protecting her, making sure her follies hadn’t gone too far.

At least the immediate problem is solved, Chizuru thought bitterly. I’m going home.

Kaoru’s grip on her arm tightened.

“Have you no self-respect at all?” her cousin hissed into her ear, interrupting his own chatter. Chizuru’s heart sank. “The birds also sing that you keep living with a guy who’s clearly not that into you. Does he sleep with you already?”

“What?!” Chizuru exhaled. Apparently, she was no longer accustomed to dealing with his perverse behaviour. We quickly get adjusted to being treated well, don’t we? While she desperately tried to think of a witty rebuttal, he continued.

“Oh, you prefer he did. But he doesn’t. Hmm...”

Chizuru twitched in anger. How could he mimic Okita’s common intonation so well? Kaoru smiled gloatingly and tapped her hand, clenched helplessly into the fist. They approached an entrance and he led her into the dark gap, ensuring that she wouldn’t escape at the last moment. Every detail of the entryway was familiar, even the scent of chemical cleanliness, even the sound of the elevator arriving. Yet that didn’t help to ease their sibling embrace.     

Kaoru practically shoved Chizuru inside the apartment, right into the waiting arms of her parents. The cousins were greeted warmly, and much more loudly than she had expected. Chizuru barely found enough strength to smile.

The cozy dining room was prepared for family supper. It was warm and clean and every detail was radiating well-being. Chizuru noticed a couple of her favorite dishes, ones she hadn’t eaten since her departure. If only she was hungry. She still felt Kaoru’s grip on her arm. Staff were nowhere to be seen, which meant fewer prying ears.

Chizuru moved mechanically, washing her hands, helping to adjust the napkins, answering casual questions. For the first time in her life, she noticed that neither Father nor Kaoru moved to help the women with the table. Chizuru remembered how she cooked together with Okita, or Saitou-san, or Heisuke-kun, and the memory made her feel better.

Dinner talk moved between steady topics, as if Chizuru had never left home. A storm could sweep the whole of N city away, but Yukimuras would still discuss Father’s work in the Health Department (“and he yells, ‘I pay you three hundred thousand, so why do you look like you earn sixty?”); arrangements with important people Father had to meet (“you should know the Toudou family better by now, right?”); Kaoru’s promotion (he gives a lopsided smile); Mother’s socialite friends. People that Chizuru never wanted to know, who lived their lives, travelled, married, bore their children and passed away, their lives reflected in the distorting mirror of small talk.    

“So, Kaoru says you turned down Kazama’s eldest son?” smirked Mother. _Father’s wife,_ Chizuru mentally corrected herself. When the time for tea and desserts came, the wheel of talk finally reached her. And she hadn’t recovered from Kaoru’s games yet. Souji wouldn’t give a damn, thought Chizuru.  

“Such folly,” said Father, smiling oddly. “Kazama is not the man to give a second chance.”

Mother waved a hand. “Koudou-san, don’t be naive. I admit, it was was well-played, sweetling. Hard-to-get, yes?” She turned her febrile eyes at Chizuru. “That youngster is known to be picky, but he can’t treat a Yukimura lightly. Just you wait, he’ll come running for her.”

A lazy smile crept over Kaoru’s face, but he said nothing. Chizuru shivered at the thought that he could bring up Okita. At the same time, she felt oddly proud of Kazama. Even if for only a short time, he had been her good acquaintance. Kazama Chikage was so remarkable that nobody believed he had been sincerely turned down. She looked down to hide a sudden smile.

Her parents went on about Chizuru’s womanly wits. Kaoru was uncharacteristically silent, poking his pie indifferently with a dessert fork. Perhaps he had already gotten in his share of mockery, she thought. Perhaps he had meant no offense earlier. Later she would wonder why she had sensed no trap. When he did look at her, she felt like a small simple-minded creature. That stare reminded her of “Kei-kun”.  

“I never intended to date Kazama-san,” Chizuru finally said, cracking a smile. It was pleasant to be frank for a change. It had been a while since she had started to leave some parts of her life out of what she told her family. Her parents would never understand either her innocent co-living with Okita, or Hijikata-san’s social justice war.

Father and Mother only brushed her off. Of course, they started trying to persuade her of her mistake with unwavering arguments. Kazama Chikage was a promising man, an Heir, rich, and not uncomely. So what if she didn’t like him? After all, children were not permitted to have opinions. The discussion was heading dangerously toward the very root of their disagreement.  

“Sweetling, we know, we didn’t give you enough space,” Father finally said, though somewhat belatedly. “But this absence of yours becomes too long. Why don’t you return home, if only for a bit of time?”

Chizuru wanted to refuse tactfully when he added with deceptive softness, “At work, my visitors have started to wonder if I am the relative of that notorious Yukimura from television. Hasn’t it gone too far, dear?”

Did you tell them that we are unrelated? thought Chizuru. Aloud, she said, “Father, I’m sure that your professional value completely outweighs my reputation, whatever it is.”

A raised brow conveyed his mild irritation. “It does, for now. You know that it was made clear for all public officials to stick to the right side. We are not meant to support liberal propaganda…”

“And besides,” Mother interrupted, smiling, “we are worried about _you._ You even look different now. So skinny!”

Of course, I look different, thought Chizuru. I have neither beautician, nor hairdresser, nor tailor now. Not that I was ever especially proud of that.

Chizuru had yet to learn to tell passive-aggressive attitude apart from sincere concern. She felt a prick of guilt and confusion.    

Meanwhile, Mother studied Chizuru critically. “We could have a ladies’ day together. Why don’t you return home just for a weekend? For a start?”

“That’s not likely to happen,” Kaoru put in, before Chizuru opened her mouth. His unsettling eyes suddenly landed on her.

She looked at him in a silent plea.

“My sweet sister enjoys living in a house full of men. Your “ladies’ day” just cannot compete with alcoholics, leftists, drug-makers and other _musicians_.”

Father stared heavily at Chizuru. His features took on that absent, cruel expression she had feared so much as a child.

Meanwhile, Kaoru was not finished. “Especially her favorite one - a former-detainee-orphan-gambler with a passion for maiming people and _lo-ovely_ green eyes!” Kaoru’s hysterical laughter was drowned out by angry exclamations.

…

“Open the door, Chizuru.” Kaoru had been mumbling that phrase for the last ten minutes. “The curtain has already fallen.”

Behind the closed door of her former bathroom, Chizuru tried to suppress her sobbing. The camel’s back had been broken with no less than a war hammer, judging by the outcry of her parents.

“I may be your chance to get out. You want to leave, don’t you?” Kaoru knew the right strings.

Chizuru inhaled deeply and dried her wet face. Her hands were shaking. She felt a new wave of sobbing threaten to overwhelm her, and it took several minutes more to calm down. She would never open the damn door except for the promise of release. Her parents had ended up prohibiting her from returning to the headquarters.

Chizuru pushed the latch release and Kaoru crept into the bathroom. She turned away from him.

“H-how could you… What did I ever do to you?” she asked helplessly.

“Now, now… You didn’t intend to keep them in the dark forever, did you?”

Later she would think of many suitable phrases about her life being none of his business. She was always wise in retrospect.

“It’s far better than them dropping by your house in the Slums, right?” Kaoru continued softly. “It’s been awhile since they started to discuss visiting you. I thought it would be better to face them here.”

Chizuru shrugged. She was not sure that he wasn’t just mocking her again. She started to check her bag for necessities, aiming to leave. Further talking would only make things worse.

Kaoru sat down on the side of the bath and took his phone. “I’m ordering you a taxi. I’ll distract Koudou-san to give you some time.”

“‘kay…” mumbled Chizuru. Her head started throbbing with pain.

“You want to return that badly… Do you really treasure your swamp scum that much?”

“I do,” Chizuru answered quietly. She felt too proud and too hurt to lie. A reckless move.

“If so, we could at least make him more appropriate… Oh, here we go.” Kaoru finished with his taxi-ordering application and tugged her into the dark hall.

“Don’t you dare to lay a finger on him,” hissed Chizuru.

“Just kidding, relax,” he whispered. “Now take this money - I know you're broke.” He shoved Chizuru’s coat and a small bundle into her arms and pushed her out the door.

Protesting would attract attention so she ran down the staircase, forgetting about the elevator. The cold air outside was now sweet with relief and freedom.

Chizuru ignored the taxi and trotted to the subway station. She knew better than to go anywhere by Kaoru’s taxi.

Sitting in the subway car, Chizuru surrendered to her bitter thoughts again. Useless as always, a wuss, never able to protect herself. She couldn’t imagine Okita or Saitou-san being bullied like that. She always tried to be good, she did what they told her to do - where did it go so wrong? When would it all end?

She felt relieved thinking that everything would end someday. I would smile; yes, I would smile. Once I was no longer here. I wouldn’t care anymore. I’d have no body and no soul to feel pain. No one would spare a single thought if I disappeared. Tears creept down her cheeks again, but she ignored them.

A pair of girls - all decked out in black - sat down across from her. They exchanged glances and pulled out their phones to capture the moment. The next day, Chizuru would find her tear-stained face in social media feeds. Another small trouble to deal with.

The phone in her pocket showed some signs of life. Chizuru ignored it. No one would waste a damn thought if she disappeared. Chizuru thought of all those disgusting people around her. Even the pack. They only hired her because their producer told them so. They never really wanted her with them. They wanted a doll with a violin. A devil’s instrument. Okita was the first to oppose her enrollment and - damn - wasn’t that just honest?

And the fans. Had she not tried her best? She couldn’t stop recalling all those comments on the net. How her legs were unsuitable for her stage dresses. How her hair and face were all wrong. How she must have slept with someone to be taken into the band. How she “dared to look at Sano-san with those eyes,” when in reality she had been trying to suppress her laughter because Okita had been whispering obscene stories into her ear. He always seemed to enjoy putting her on edge - was that even healthy?

And why would she even return to the headquarters now? Who cared? Okita was never home anyway - what if he didn’t really want to share the house with her?  She would go… She would go to the Bar Mile. Kaoru’s money burned in her pocket. Her first intention had been to throw it away, but her new train of thought was taking her towards the Bar Mile. When a train of thought and an actual train move in the same direction, what’s not to like? She just had to waste that useless money in the most despicable way.

The Crossroad was stuffed, as was the Bar Mile, with Sunday night at its best. Chizuru trudged past the rowdy bars and feasting crowds. Her thoughts were a dark tangled mass of wrath and self-pity.  

Too loud. Chizuru turned into the maze of side alleyways, drifting aimlessly between bright storefronts and people. She prowled around, swallowing her tears, until she reached the Ford - a narrow street, squeezed between the public area and the Eastern Slums. Behind the last line of taverns and other establishments, the motley rows of low-rise buildings descended towards the river.    

They all despise me. Even Okita. I’m so tired. I want no more waiting for nothing.

Chizuru’s eyes landed on a cozy basement bar with a pair of stone gargoyles framing the entrance. The bizarre view captured her attention - the Slums’ buildings never failed to amaze her with their exteriors.

Everyone gets what they deserve; the thought was banging around in her head. I’m not strong enough to oppose my own family, my cousin and Father. Maybe I deserve to be treated like that until I learn to defend myself.

Chizuru went downstairs to find herself in a stuffy, noisy room. It smelled of smoke and something sour. She sneaked to the farther end of the bar counter, where no eyes would bother her.

The bartender’s face was blank - she was just another pale girl with a red nose. Chizuru slowly examined the menu and put her finger beside the mile of different shots of the most poisonous colors. The bartender smirked knowingly and nodded his understanding.

They were bitter, and tasted foul and acrid on her tongue. But Chizuru kept swallowing the harsh liquids. Kaoru’s money deserved to be wasted as uselessly as possible. Soon, she felt lightweight and the walls started to sway with every move of her head.

“You.” She heard someone on her left. “Got something?”

“The Moon Road.” The bartender lowered his voice. “The Water of Life…”

“Damn, not that shit again. Mix us the Moon Road, dude. A sure thing, yeah.”

Chizuru raised her eyes from the tabletop. Beside her were two scruffy men in their thirties. The bartender disappeared into the backroom and soon returned with a tiny cup.

“Better served with liquor,” he instructed. The men giggled affirmatively and left. The bartender noticed her staring. “Anything else for the lady?”

“That water o’life though…” squeaked Chizuru. “Show me.”

Kaoru’s money deserved the ugliest possible purchase.

…

If truth were told, Souji had no particular reason to sleep out that often. Sometimes, it was his need of money that led him to the streets. And just as often, it was his craving for adventures. That day though, he actually worked, meaning that he had visited Hajime to run through their stuff before rehearsal. A narrow couch in his friend’s living room seemed more welcoming than a long ride back to the Slums. He was a homeless boy. How else could he replace the absence of home if not with adventures?

It wasn’t that he felt uneasy sharing a house with the girl, no.

Hajime would usually grumble at his unannounced visits, but let it slide. Souji believed that his friend would let him know if he was unwanted in the blink of an eye. Reserved as he was, Hajime was nowhere near a pushover. Shortly before he’d been convinced to move south - not without Souji’s active involvement - he’d already had a mixed reputation, reinforced by an infamous brawl with some official’s son. By then, staying in his native city had become strained.

Hajime was very polite, well-mannered and reasonable. Yet, under his calm surface, there was a steel will.

Souji was sort of a savage and so was his friend. At that very moment, the latter was pointing an accusing finger at the computer screen.

“Do be sensible, Souji, this part is not suitable,” stated Hajime, interrupting his thoughts. “And you’d better pay more attention to our work, if you are going to visit me thrice a week about it.”

“Yeah, pay more attention!” echoed Hijikata-san’s voice from the speakers. He had attended their small meeting virtually.

Souji glared at the messenger window and said, “We could make Sano-san sing one of those extra verses we rejected earlier. Or rework it into a solo line. Several decisions, bad to worse.”

Our work at it’s best, he thought. They wasted days sewing together all the pieces, just to find them weak. Then they would constantly remake them until everything clicked. Producing tons of horrendous ideas along the way. Gods, he felt so tired.  

Hijikata-san was presenting his opinion on the matter, when a low atonal screech broke into their back-and-force.

Hajime narrowed his eyes at Souji. “What is it, _semuta_ music?”

“Harsh noise.” Souji smiled, picking up his phone. “Chizuru-chan!” he said cheerfully, grateful for the distraction.

 _“Yo, dude!”_ an unknown male voice exclaimed. Souji’s smile withered. _“The girl here, she may need your help! Emergency contact and all. A’right-a’right, here’s your cell!”_ The voice had melted into the street background noise before Souji could get a word.

 _“S-ji.”_ The voice was hers, albeit hoarse.

“Yep, I am. What’s up?”

 _“S--ji…”_ Her mumbling was barely audible.

Hajime let a bit of irritation slide into his glare as he watched his friend listening in confusion. Souji raised his free hand to his neck and made a particular gesture, meaning that his interlocutor was drunk to the extension of spacing out. Hajime stared at him in disbelief.

Collecting himself, Souji said firmly. “Chizuru, listen to me. No, stay put. Listen. Where are you now? Mhm… Okay... Chizuru, what do you see around?” He stood up and nodded at the direction of the door.

Hajime stood up immediately.

“What’s the problem?” Hijikata-san asked.

“ _Onis_? Which _onis_?” Souji’s voice tensed up. “Chizuru, listen to me--” If that was Kazama again, he was going to give her a piece of his mind.

“Darn,” muttered Hajime and grabbed the phone himself. His free hand was typing an explanation to Hijikata-san. “Yukimura-san, what sort of _onis_ do you see? How many are there?”

Souji was already lacing his boots. They swiftly turned off the lights and went down to the yard, trying to talk Chizuru out.

The damn car needed a good five minutes to warm up. Souji’s fingers tapped the wheel restlessly. He had no idea where to look for the girl in a city of three-million.

Stone-cold sober, Hajime continued asking stupid things in the delirious tongue of the drunk. The _onis_ were grey, there were two of them, they had red eyes…

“Gargoyles then,” said Hajime. “To the Crooked Mile,” he whispered to Souji, before turning his attention back to Chizuru. “Yukimura-san, talk to me. Don’t leave the _onis_ , alright?”

Souji pressed the accelerator and the car started off. He was at his worst as a driver, speeding up and ignoring the road cameras. They could choke on their fines, for all he cared.

…

“Sweet sister, you father is to marry again, he may expect you to behave. Don’t let him down.”

“Honey, this is my daughter, Chizuru.”

“Your goal is to make the maximum of her studies. We’re off to Amsterdam for a week, don’t indulge her, teacher.”

“Sit straight Chizuru, elbows off the table! Everyone’s waiting for you!”

“Quit talking nonsense, sweetling, you’re such a dreamer.”

“The rumors say her father’s a sociopath. A power-hungry freak, gods be good.”

“Don’t be a cry baby, sweet sister. You are too spoiled. Why does everyone give you so much credit?”

“What?! Scared of darkness? Nonsense! You don’t want me to see you outside your room again.”

“I am no tyrant, but know your place, girl!”

“She’s so clumsy and she’s always alone. Such a wallflower. Better avoid her company, she obviously doesn’t like us.”

“Chizuru!”

“Poor strange girl, one pill and you are free…”

“Chizuru! Chizuru, wake up! Damnit!”

Slowly, Chizuru cracked her eyes open. Cold electric light from the street blinded her for a second. Someone was shaking her far too roughly, his voice ringing in her ears. Kaoru again? She twitched and tried to break out, mumbling incoherently, but once she recognized Okita’s face, she stopped struggling and went limp in his arms. Okita looked terrified. He lifted the girl to her feet, cursing under his breath. The ground swayed under Chizuru's legs and a wave of dizziness shook her. Chizuru made a desperate effort to turn away from Okita as she threw up her supper into the nearest snowdrift. Tears of humiliation sprang into her eyes. Never had she felt so miserable. She wanted to crawl into a hole so that no one would ever see her again.

“Hajime-kun, have a handkerchief? Here, Chizuru… Don’t turn away! You’re not the ugliest drunk girl ever, believe me.”

Okita helped her stay on her feet while she desperately tried to hide her face. Her heart was going like a rabbit’s.

“Your body is getting rid of… whatever you consumed. That’s good.” Saitou-san was merciless in his attempt to reassure her, though he certainly meant good. “Your eyes are all red,” he observed. “Pupils are dilated too.”

“True,” muttered Okita. “Did you take something?”

Chizuru managed a nod. She wiped her face and tried to untangle herself from Okita’s arms, embarrassed. The surroundings swayed before her eyes. How did she end up on the street?

“You’re in no condition to move by yourself.” Okita quickly got back to business. “Let’s get into the car and then I’ll go break some necks. Whoever sold you this shit--”

“We can visit them together tomorrow,” Saitou-san said quietly. “Yukimura’s safety is more important right now.”

“Yeah…” Okita said with a frown. “Hajime-kun, could you bring the car around? I’ll stay with Chizuru-chan.”

Saitou-san nodded and deftly caught the keys Okita threw to him. Without as much as a word, he disappeared into the alleyway.

Chizuru was breathing heavily. She stopped struggling and leaned on Okita, still dizzy. He was warm, steady and safe, unlike everything else around her. Her memories were vague. She had made new friends. Some people who were as eager to lose themselves. She remembered some hands touching her, her thrill and fear. Somehow, she had ended up on the street. Truly, it was a miracle no one had followed her. She must have been an easy prey. Chizuru shook her head and caught Okita’s stare.

“What the hell did you drink?” Okita asked studying her face. Was he angry? She couldn’t sort it out.

“The water of life,” Chizuru said in a feeble voice. Her eyes felt sore; perhaps some vessels had burst.

Okita cursed and mumbled, “I’ll kill _him_. Let’s find a warmer place until Hajime-kun comes.” He tugged Chizuru to the nearby bar. It was the very place she had recently left, but she was too exhausted to resist.

Without any remorse, the bartender watched Okita settle Chizuru on a sofa. A bunch of freaks perked up when the _golden girl_ returned with a _comrade_. Comrade’s glare cooled their blood in an instant. When Chizuru was steady, the bartender quickly appeared to offer “something else”.

“Tea.” Okita looked at the guy, as if watching an annoying insect. “Black tea.” He turned away, putting an end to their interaction.

Chizuru was stuck in the corner of the sofa. She was looking at the floor, trying to focus her eyes. Seemed that she had walked through the looking glass and managed to return. In her mind, embarrassment was offset by the feeling of relief at having avoided major trouble. If her friends hadn’t found her in time, she would have been gone by now. In comparison with the rest of the city, the Slums were an underworld of sorts; at the same time, they obviously had their own underworld. Chizuru couldn’t even start to imagine what it looked like. Her entrails being sold at dawn seemed to be the best prospect.

Okita looked uncharacteristically baffled and didn’t rush to start a conversation. Neither did Chizuru so they let the silence stretch. At one point their eyes met and they both hurried to look away.

…

It was about three a.m. when he understood that he was not going to fall asleep that night. Staring at the ceiling proved fruitless. For a moment, Souji was even tempted to open the books Hijikata-san had once presented him. They had lain untouched near his bed ever since his move. He couldn’t put into words what irritated him most about those books - probably the knowing smile on Hijikata-san’s face that had accompanied the gift. The they-all-think-they-know-me feeling. Finally, Souji wrapped himself in his blanket - the nights were freezingly cold - and trudged to the opposite room to check on the girl. Surprisingly, she was sound asleep. A peaceful sleep, totally unexpected after such a busy night.

Where was justice in that? In all fairness, it should have been him sleeping peacefully, not her. Oddly enough, she was company of sorts, so he sat down on the floor in the corner of her dark room.

When the grey light of dawn started to creep along the walls, items acquired shapes and textures. He could observe. And so he did.

What bothered him in his half-asleep state – another odd thing – was how round and curvy she was, from the round tip of her nose to her round knees under the blanket. If someone were to draw the two of them together, the picture would show her small curvy frame and a pile of broken diagonals, towering over her. He smiled at the thought.

The fact that he had found her drunk in some savage place didn’t affect him all that much. He remembered Kei-kun saying that alcohol destroys brain cells, so that memories become vague and then disappear. After that, he tried many times to drink enough to get rid of his memories, but it never worked. He stopped when he became even more of a nuisance to Kondou-san than usual. Or so he believed.

If the girl was trying to get rid of some memories this way - well, he could relate to that, at least.   

…

Chizuru cracked open her lids, headache throbbing slowly behind her eyes. It took her time to recognize her room and her bed. She was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, now wrinkled and smelling of smoke.

Water, I need water. She sat up in bed, scanning her room for slippers, and then froze, mildly abashed. Okita was staring at her from the opposite corner, wrapped in his blanket and completely noiseless.  

“No,” gasped Chizuru. “Not you.” She’d already had enough lecturing the day before.   

“That’s some way to say good morning.” Okita’s lips twitched. He nodded towards a glass of water placed on the coffee table that served Chizuru as her workstation, ironing board and eating area all at once.

Chizuru thanked him and took the glass eagerly. She finished the water and lay back down on her bed, unable to hold herself upright. Nausea and headache took away her ability to fret.  

“Look,” Okita said slowly, “You gave me a piece of your mind when I wasn’t at my best behavior--”   

“And now you’ll give me a piece of yours, so that we’ll be even.” Chizuru couldn’t help but smile at the prospect.

“Do I look like such an idiot?” Okita asked with displeasure. “Listen…” he started and paused again. He examined the opposite wall with Chizuru’s clothes hanging on the rope and then blurted. “Never do that again.”

Chizuru glanced at him in surprise.

“At least, not alone,” Okita continued. “You have exactly the right company for doing these things, don’t you? Mmm, have you seen Hajime drunk?” He found a way to turn the thing into a joke.

“I guess…”

“No, that wasn’t a drunk Hajime.”

“I haven’t seen you drunk, though,” Chizuru responded hoarsely, with a smile.

“Nothing really different,” he told her immediately. “The finest one is Hijikata-san, though I’d rather you don’t go alone with him. He often needs assistance himself.”

Chizuru chuckled.

“I mean… damn.” Okita turned away.

“I get it, Okita-san,” said Chizuru. “Thank you.”

That change from ‘S-ji’ back to ‘Okita-san’ was expected, but still rang unpleasantly in his ears.

“Anyway, what exactly happened yesterday?” he asked, pushing himself beyond the usual boundaries settled between them. They could spend hours talking about everything but themselves and their personal affairs.

“Ah, that…” Chizuru averted her gaze in confusion. “My family…” Thoughts were lazy and slow in her head and it took her a moment to find the right words. “They made it clear how - um - unwanted my behavior is. They locked me in my room and then he gave me that freaking money--”

“Not so fast, Chizuru,” Okita stopped her. “I’m not the brightest crayon in the box, you know. What happened first?”

After she finished telling her story, trying to complain as little as possible, Okita was silent.

When Chizuru started to worry about his lack of response, he said, “I met a person once. He told me what surviving meant. He loved history and anthropology, all that shit.” Okita pursed his lips, remembering something, and then continued. “He told me that only those who are capable of solving problems can survive. Not the blunt, nor the rich, nor the strong - those who solve problems. And this one is yours. Damn, I kinda suck at  comforting people. Don’t even know why I remembered that.”

“No, you have a point,” answered Chizuru. It seemed to be the first time that he had shown any concern for her, which was important in itself. Putting that aside, Okita was right. She was neither blunt, nor strong, but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t solve her problem.

“And besides,” Okita muttered, “your family is just a bunch of strangers who happened to be there when you were born, you know? That means nothing.”

“They aren’t the people you choose,” Chizuru said slowly, and he nodded his agreement. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that he spoke from his own experience.

...  

Dropping by for dinner, the pack was rather amused to find Chizuru still in bed.

By that time, the teapot had moved to her room, along with a fair third of the headquarters’ food and tableware. Okita was sitting at the head of the coffee table beside Chizuru’s bed, preparing tea. It was evident that they had been sitting like that since morning, whenever that morning had started for them. Chizuru had taken a shower and changed her clothes to get rid of the alcohol stench. But she still felt nauseous and unable to get up.

The pack filled her room and suddenly it seemed no bigger than a match-box. Saitou-san quietly occupied a place near her feet. Heisuke-kun - already in his Christmas sweater despite it being only early December - was squeezed between Shinpachi-san and Sano-san by the opposite wall. Of course, they started to fool around, congratulating Chizuru on her first major hangover. However, it was clear that they meant no offence and Chizuru laughed along with everyone. They never judged her. Well, especially after she stopped being Serizawa-san’s artificial infusion into their precious fraternity, but who is without sin?

The story of her drunk adventure put her in their Hall of Shame forever, according to Sano-san’s comment. She left out the details about the Water of Life in order to spare them from worrying. Okita and Saitou-san said nothing about that either.    

“It was our initiation and you passed,” Okita said and everybody laughed. Chizuru felt better now, though she was nowhere near settling things with her family. Trying to lose oneself in drugs had proven useless.

“Everyone needs to loosen up from time to time,” Sano-san said reassuringly, wrapping up the discussion of Chizuru’s adventures. “It reduces the distance between people, too.”

“Even Yamazaki loosens up sometimes,” added Okita. “Or so it’s said.”

“Even Yamazaki-kun has issues,” declared Shinpachi-san.

Heisuke-kun chuckled, but said nothing.

We all seem to have issues here, thought Chizuru.

Hijikata-san couldn’t possibly miss them when he arrived later, since the house shook with laughter. He even settled himself by the door between Okita and Chizuru and took part in their feast.

Heisuke-kun looked troubled by his arrival, but Hijikata-san acted as if nothing had happened.

“We kinda seem stuck in a bad movie these past weeks,” Shinpachi-san said to Hijikata-san. “I can’t help but expect bad news again.”

Heisuke-kun managed an affirmative nod.

“And I just wanted to have this cup of tea in peace,” grumbled Hijikata-san.

“We have checked into some information about Itou-san,” said Saitou-san. “Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to have a steady professional background.”

“Kondou-san says he graduated from N university,” Okita put in.

“So what? If you finish university to work as a waiter, what level of education is that?”

“He’s not a waiter--” Okita mumbled stubbornly. It wasn’t like him to get involved in common discussions. As far as Chizuru knew, he preferred to keep his opinion to himself and mock the others. However, with Kondou-san involved, he became unusually talkative.

“He’s not an employee of a reputable company either,” retorted Saitou-san. “Not a business owner. Most likely, he lives on some kind of personal income.”

“Why is Kondou-san so positive about him, then?” Heisuke-kun asked.

Shinpachi-san squinted a knowing eye at him and opened his mouth to answer, but Hijikata-san didn’t let him get a word in.

“Kondou-san will have an opportunity to test his skills soon enough,” Hijikata-san said gravely. “Kondou-san’s _doujo_ was audited by the tax authorities this morning. We occupied his space for quite a while several years ago. Seems that everyone affiliated with us can draw _their_ attention.”

Okita’s face acquired such a lost expression that Chizuru wondered what had hit him hardest: fear for Kondou-san, or pain that he hadn’t been first to be told such important news.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is named after the song ‘Thy Serpent Tongue’ by Psyclon Nine.
> 
> Greatest thanks to my wonderful friend and beta-reader ImpracticalDemon for editing the text! Thanks to everyone who followed the story!
> 
> Some words about the sources of inspiration. Credits and eternal gratitude to Anna-Varney Cantodea. Some of Chizuru’s thoughts were heavily inspired by “Somnambulist’s Secret Bardo Life” lyrics. I often use my favorite verses and lyrics to express important moments - mea culpa. Also, I credit Wystan Hugh Auden - a remarkable poet who needs no introduction - for inspiring some of narrator’s musings. And Oxxxymiron - for Chizuru’s narcotic stream of memories.  
> 
> This chapter was terrific to write, both hard and engrossing. I hope you enjoyed it despite delay and the unpleasant topics raised.  


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